A New Chance Continued
by pyrodaemon
Summary: Managing to kill Lord Voldemort, Harry now faces the fates themselves. Watch as he's thrown back in time to his eleven year old self and given a second chance at life, a chance to right past wrongs.
1. Chapter 1 to 6

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** (tentatively) Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Hello everyone as you can see I've been given permission from the wonderful Curalium Lacrimo to continue 'A New Chance'. This is all the chapters she had up beta-ed by myself and the lovely tranquilitygal95. Hopefully you guys like the rest of the story just as much as you liked the first six chapters. I'm going to post a chapter every seven to twelve days unless something goes wrong. I will not be posting on any national (US) holidays as I always travel out of town to visit my relatives but I will try posting just before them.**

**Happy Reading.**

**Chapter One**

He had done it.

He couldn't believe he had done it, but he had.

In the end it had been easy, no huge bursts of light, no extravagant scheme but he had still done it. He had defeated the Dark Lord.

But it was at a price.

They had been battling in the Ministry, throwing a wide array of spells and pretty much destroying everything around them when they had suddenly found themselves in the Veil Room, deep in the Department of Mysteries. They had been throwing around some curses, each hoping to catch the other out, but it had become apparent that they truly were each other's "equal". So, when Voldemort had his back to the Veil, and knowing the Dark Lord kept a high-level shield up at all times – which is what made him seem so invulnerable to others; most people couldn't even cast that spell let alone keep it up all day and night – Harry did the only thing he could think of doing.

He leapt straight at the Dark Lord, throwing them **both** into the Veil.

As Harry floated through a dark mist, he smirked. The look on the Dark Lord's face had been _priceless_.

Looking around for what must have been the hundredth time, he wondered where he could be. He'd been... floating in this eerie mist for what was probably about three or four hours. He was about to try and call out for the third time when the fog-like mist started swirling around him, becoming solid. Before he could even blink he was in a stark white room with beautiful tapestry lining its edges.

The tapestry wasn't really of any specific thing as far as he could tell, but he soon found that if he stared at it long enough he could almost see the tapestry moving and a brief flicker would show itself to be picture. Hearing something moving behind him he tensed and spun around, his wand, which he had managed to keep through the entire ordeal, clasped firmly in his hand and raised to let out the first curse that came to mind. However, of all the monstrous and bizarre sites he had prepared himself for, what he faced definitely wasn't what he thought he would see.

Three women were working peacefully on the tapestry that he had stared at the entire time he'd been in the white room.

The first had short curly blonde hair and sky blue eyes, reminding him of what angels were supposed to look like; she had a basket of threads on the floor next to her and was setting them into the tapestry. A happy smile flit across her face every time a thread was attached and it seemed that her attention was completely on what she was doing as she didn't give any indication that she noticed Harry was even there.

The woman next to her had wavy, shoulder-length, brown hair and dark green eyes; she was weaving the threads with great care and looked very kindly, but she, like the first, seemed too engrossed in her work to notice Harry.

The last woman had long straight pitch-black hair and stark white eyes, but unlike the other two, she was currently facing him and despite the fact her white eyes seemed unseeing, she definitely knew he was there. There was something off about the last woman, she had an aura about her that gave Harry the chills. As if to add to the morbid air that clung to her, in her hand was a pair of sharp, silver scissors, which she used to cut, what seemed to be, random strands of thread.

Frankly she was a little creepy.

Looking around the room yet again Harry tried to figure out where he was, who they were, and what he was doing here. As if the third one could sense his unspoken question, she started to speak in a age-roughen voice, "Hello child. I suppose you're wondering who we are. My name is Atropos. To my right is Lachesis, and that's Clotho. We, my dear, are the Fates."

Their names sounded vaguely familiar to Harry, but having spent most of his time with his nose in a book or training for the last 4 years, that wasn't exactly unexpected. A deep, surprisingly warm laugh could be heard from Atropos; then she smiled at him, and while it wasn't exactly reassuring, it was warmer than he had anticipated. Atropos sighed, "You weren't supposed to die you know." She said almost conversationally. He was about to ask how she'd know that when she continued, "But then again, neither was he. I usually see things clearly. Even when Destiny decides he wants to meddle and throws in one of those damnable prophecies. But this time it went wrong. So I am going to give you a chance to change things. You may either go onto purgatory, or go back in time, to try and change what once was."

"What? But wait, if I went back wouldn't I just do everything the exact same way?" Harry asked, confused and more than a little startled. Was this even _possible_? Or was he still in that black mist, alone and delusional?

"You would keep your memories as they are, child." The green eyed lady said patiently in a lilting voice.

"What about everyone else - Voldemort, Dumbledore - would they keep their memories as well?" Harry asked, not quite sure that he wouldn't still be back in his bed at headquarters and this entire day hadn't just been a dream. If that was the case then this was a really strange dream, and he'd have to remember not to eat whatever he ate before he went to bed. Ever again.

"No child, only you would know of the future." The third fate said, absently cutting a thread.

Realizing that this could really be happening, and knowing his luck as it was, he couldn't help but wonder if he should bother. He could go on to the other side, with his parents, Sirius, Remus, McGonagall… But if he went back, perhaps he could save some of them, give them more of a chance at life, and he'd see his parents again. Eventually.

"I'll do it." Harry said, almost in a whisper, his "saving people thing" winning out again.

There was that eerie smile again from Atropos.

"Clotho, Lachesis, it is time." Atropos said to the other two 'fates,' and as she did they all stopped what they were doing, their instruments freezing in mid air and the tapestry which had previously been faintly sparkling and moving, froze.

"I, Atropos, daughter of Zeus, Cutter of Threads, do hereby invoke Chronos, god of time to…" the rest of what she was saying was cut off as the other two women started speaking and all three voices rose and fell in an uncanny echo, and the mists from earlier swam in to surround Harry, once again becoming solid. As the black mist finally became a blanket, there was a sound similar to thunder and three voices as one said, "And so it shall be."

But as Harry felt himself fall into the dark abyss he was sure he heard one of them say, "I hope this is worth it, sister. You **do** realize we'll have to start over again, don't you?"

And suddenly, almost as fast as it had begun, the mists stopped and he felt himself fall onto something solid. As he was going to open his eyes, which he didn't remember closing, a screech he hadn't heard in 3 years came through the door, "Up, up, get up, Boy!" That was when Harry realized just when and where he had landed. And it definitely wasn't a dream.

It was H_ell_.

**Chapter Two**

"GET UP!" came that same shrill voice that made Harry wince.

Groaning Harry shouted back, "I'm **UP**!" There was some angry muttering but his Aunt Petunia walked away.

He couldn't believe it; why in Merlin's name did they have to send him here? To this place? Just how young _was_ he? Looking around he saw the cupboard was slightly cramped, so he'd say he was between 9 and 11; definitely the later years though. Before nine years of age the cupboard had, sadly, seemed like a vast space to the small, undernourished boy he'd been.

Reaching up he blindly searched for the light cord and pulling at it he couldn't help but blink blearily as light spread around his cupboard chasing away the shadows that collected every night. Grabbing his glasses he searched for some clothes, flicking off a spider here and there as he pulled on a dull grey t-shirt that was nearly small enough to fit him as it was several years old. He wasn't as lucky with the jeans and had to tie them to his waist with a spare bit of twine. When he was finished he opened the door and stumbled out of the cupboard as he tried to get used to his smaller body.

Entering the kitchen he looked at the calendar on the wall near the door and saw it read July 1991, meaning it was the summer before his first year and he wasn't even eleven yet. He hoped he wouldn't have to go through everything he did last time to get his letter. That had been a mess and didn't need repeating.

Apparently he wasn't moving fast enough because his uncle yelled at him to get a move on and make breakfast. So throwing one last mournful look at the calendar he started to make the bacon and eggs the two males demanded they have every morning as he put some toast in the toaster.

Going through the monotonous and easily remembered task of making breakfast, he quickly analysed his situation. Being from the future was going to be trouble since, even though he was 19, nearly 20 when he 'died', he wasn't even 11 here. He hadn't even started Hogwarts, yet, and was supposed to be ignorant of the Wizarding World where he'd spent nearly ten years of his life. The fact of the matter was that he had learned and trained enough to have earned his mastery in quite a few subjects. He thought about McGonagall who had tutored him in the Animagus Transformation and Advanced Transfigurations before she had died only 4 months ago, but now she was alive; alive and teaching at Hogwarts. And that thought was going to take some getting used to. Everyone was going to be alive now. He'd have to condition himself to remember that.

They were alive.

Putting the food on the table he got himself a glass of water and some toast, hastily eating it, lest it be taken from him, as he walked upstairs to the bathroom. Looking in the mirror he studied himself and couldn't help but frown. He hated being this short, he'd always hated being this short. He'd been the shortest person he knew even in younger year groups at Hogwarts and until he was fourteen he'd often been mistaken as a first or second year. He hadn't had a major growth spurt until 7th year, and even then he'd only been 5'7". Though in the end he hadn't really minded it, he'd been fast and agile, which had saved him on a number of occasions where being tall and muscular would have only hindered him. It had taken him a long time to accept that his height wasn't a bad thing in every situation.

Harry's Sensei Muzuki Matsushika had been a great help with this, refusing to allow him to sulk about it, though her techniques usually involved putting him in situations with other trainers in which only speed and agility could be used effectively. He'd gained quite a few painful bruises that way and had learned to stop sulking, at least in anyone's presence, lest it get back to his Sensei and she start his extra training again.

Looking at himself again he glared at his glasses. In the future a potion had been developed to heal eyesight problems, or rather he had invented it. It had been his first masterpiece in his seventh year. Snape had let up on him in his final year, their relationship was an odd one since they mainly argued -- they had still both hated each other and had very little respect for each other, but they had learn to work together -- and when they had to work together they simply worked in silence. Or it had been until Harry received his mother's diary from the Family Vault, which he'd never heard about and had found some things out about Snape that changed his entire perspective on his relationship with Snape, his mother, and his father. Nevertheless Snape couldn't deny his potion skills and had provided him the room and ingredients that would allow him to develop a potion which in his words "would stop him bumbling around like a blinded bat every single time those stupid glasses get knocked off."

Smiling in remembrance Harry was about to head downstairs when he thought of something. Turning to the mirror he focused on the talent that Ollivander had helped him with. It had been a potions accident which had brought out this latent power, and he doubted he'd ever have tried to use it if Ollivander hadn't been there when it happened and taught him just what he was dealing with.

Staring at the mirror he concentrated on his magic, trying to find the latent ability he knew was there. Of course if he hadn't known approximately where it was it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. But as it was… his eyes flashed silver.

Briefly and only briefly did his eyes flash silver, but that was enough to secure his power and so the silver ring that he'd had ever since the potions accident circled his iris again. The talent was mage sight, not as developed as Ollivander's but it was useful and came in handy as it could be used to detect magic, to see it in all its glory. He wasn't nearly as good as he could be with it, having only found it six months ago, and his gift wasn't developed enough to study anything in depth, but it was trained up enough that it had saved his life twice since he established it.

Turning back around, Harry headed downstairs to his cupboard to wait for his aunt to give him the chores for the day. Sitting in his cupboard he sighed in annoyance, remembering that he'd have to go through removing his magical block all over again. The block itself was caused by the Killing Curse and was what stabilized the link between Voldemort and himself. When he had removed it the first time, under the careful guidance of Madam Pomfrey and the Headmaster, he'd not been able to achieve his full magical potential and a portion of his magic was forever damaged. It had taken nearly two months before he could begin training properly. Though thankfully it should be easier this time around as he was still young and hadn't used his magic as often. This time around, he grinned, he could do so many things differently. While he couldn't free Sirius just yet, he could capture Wormtail and thereby prove Sirius's innocence. Maybe doing that would bring Fudge down a notch, or perhaps he'd make enemies inside the Ministry before fifth year.

Well, at least this time he would be able to focus on his strengths rather than wasting his time with things like Divinations or running around the school like a little moron fighting with that pest Malfoy.

He was good at Potions, he had a knack for Charms, something he had no doubt gotten from his mother, he was decent at Transfigurations, not on the level of Dumbledore, but then nearly no one was, and he'd always had a talent for Defense. Herbology he was only so-so in as he could seem to keep the more advanced plants alive, or from trying to kill him, but he had a more than decent book knowledge through his Potion experiments. After all, you could only rarely find a plant that wasn't used in Potions. He was pretty bad at History, too, come to think about it, but that was Binns' fault; if he had paid attention he would've gotten decent grades, probably nothing more than an A, an E if he was lucky, but he never cared all that much for History anyway. He'd probably still pick Care of Magical Creatures, just to appease Hagrid, though he didn't really have much talent in that area. He'd have to keep an eye on the large man, he couldn't have him causing all those problems this time around. Maybe he'd help the man with lesson plans.

However he'd make sure he took Ancient Runes; after meeting with Sensei Mizuki he had found out where his talents truly lay. Sensei Mizuki was a very old Japanese lady with black eyes and white hair, who had trained him in martial arts and Ancient Runes. Being a Rune Master herself, she had gladly told him he was as well; informing him that it was rare that anyone had natural talent with Runes.

He also found it hilarious that he had a Rune on his forehead... his scar, it was Sowilo, which meant the sun and stood for power and life force. She had once told him it was no coincidence, but he had to go and die before she could explain it, didn't he?

He was taken out of his musings when the cupboard door opened and he was handed a list of chores.

The next few weeks were spent in a manner similar to his first day back. He pondered the past and future while he did chores and built up his Occlumency walls while simultaneously testing out his talents. He worked on Ancient Runes most of the time, tracing Runes through the air with wandless magic, something apparently all natural Rune Masters were born with and good at. Harry mostly used the Runes to help with his numerous chores, making some of the more difficult ones easier to do so he would get fed.

He also had to get his Animagus Forms back, but that would take training, both of his body and his magic. When he found out he had two, he had been shocked, but McGonagall explained that it was common for strong witches or wizards to have two forms. If more people took on Animagus Forms then it would be more commonly documented. And if he father, Sirius and Peter had gone through McGonagall to train they would have had two forms as well.

His forms, he thought, fit him perfectly. First was his magical form, a Snidget, which could turn invisible and move so quickly you almost thought they'd Apparated. He was glad that a person's Animagus Forms reflected on their human form, and if you were magical some of the power could be transported to your human form from your Animagus Forms. His had made it so his butt wasn't kicked too badly when he had practiced with Sensei.

His second form was normal and surprised him, but delighted McGonagall. He was a cat, a black cat with amazing emerald green eyes, but a cat none the less. It was dead useful when he didn't want to be noticed, and, much to his surprise and profound relief, some of the gracefulness from his Animagus Forms had shown in his human form as well, again making it so he had a chance against Sensei Mizuki.

His small cupboard didn't allow for much, though, and he had to wait to break his magical block until after he got his wand; there was no way he was going to go through the training to get his Animagus Forms until after his block was removed. Though he hoped he would recover before he got to Hogwarts.

On July 24th Harry got up bright and early, and after making breakfast eagerly waited until his uncle told him to get the post. This was the day that he'd first found his Hogwarts letter. It had been branded in his mind and he didn't think he would ever forget it.

Sure enough not five minutes later his uncle said, "Go get the post, boy." Instead of arguing he left without fuss, keeping his emotions off his face. He walked into the hall, grabbed the post, quickly snatched his Hogwarts letter. He slipped it through the gap between his cupboard door and the frame and walked back to the kitchen where he gave his uncle the rest of the post.

Ignoring his uncle's talk of Marge, he quickly ate his food and left the kitchen.

Walking into his cupboard he turned on his light and excitedly grabbed his Hogwarts letter. Ripping it open he quickly took out the list, turned over the actual letter and taking a pen out from under his mattress, wrote a reply. Harry admired the flowing script that McGonagall had drilled into him in a series of detentions after she got fed up with the scribbles he had tried to pass off as writing.

Looking it over he nodded, satisfied. It read;

Dear Deputy Headmistress McGonagall,

I was wondering if this was a joke or real? It would explain

a lot, but if you could send someone to clear everything up

for me I would be extremely grateful.

Sincerely

Harry J. Potter

Harry shoved the list and the pen back under his mattress before carefully folding up the letter and placing it in his overly large pocket. When his aunt told him, ten minutes later, that he'd be doing the garden then cleaning the lounge that day, he tried to look dismayed but was inwardly jumping for joy.

Slowly walking outside he started to do the gardening, while he waited for his aunt to leave the kitchen. Once she did he looked around the garden, and just as he suspected a barn owl was sitting on the garden wall. Harry held up his arm and gave a soft whistle, and the owl swept over to him. He tied the letter to the owl's leg then watched as it took off into the distance. Harry set to work with a vengeance on the garden, fearing the consequences of it not getting done in time. He hadn't eaten in two days, after all, as he'd been too excited about the letter that he knew was coming.

The rest of the day was spent masking his excitement, since it wouldn't do to have the Dursleys suspect anything. That night in bed he quickly erected his Occlumency shields to their strongest level before settling into a peaceful sleep, his dreams filled with magic and all the wonders he knew he'd find at Hogwarts. He knew from conversations with Hermione in their early years at Hogwarts that a professor would be there the next day to take him to Diagon Alley.

It had begun.

**Chapter Three**

As the last remnants of sleep faded from Harry's mind, he realised what day it was. This was it; this was the first step in changing everything. And if his cousins old hand-me-down watch was right it was 5:30, which meant he had two hours to kill until he even had to be up.

Realising he wouldn't get any more sleep, he leaned against the wall and started idly drawing Runes in the air. Looking in front of him he grinned; to any other person it would look like an intricate design of patterns. To him it looked almost like English. He could tell it wasn't but he was as fluent in reading Runes as he was in reading English. Sending a wave of magic to the center, he watched as the Rune did its job, cleaning the cupboard and protecting it from fire for the next two years. Perhaps he'd create one that would drive away pests. He knew there was a Rune like that at the school but didn't know the details, and it didn't work very well anyways seeing as spiders and mice had free reign. At least the mice that the cats belonging to students and Mrs. Norris didn't eat.

Runes, he had learned in the past -- or was that the future? -- were an intricate, delicate magic that could do almost anything. It could create wards, clean, heal and even kill if you were good enough.

_Although_, he thought as he rubbed his now scar free shoulder, _it wasn't smart to try and cast a Rune during a battle._ He had been stupid enough to stop and try to create a shield, since Rune shields were known for their strength. He hadn't expected, however, for the Death Eater to throw a severing charm at him before he'd finished.

Though, in his defense, the Death Eater got his own when the unfinished Rune exploded, wild magic skipping Harry, who had had the sense to duck, and threw the Death Eater nigh on twenty meters away, snapping the man's neck.

That was definitely a dangerous problem with Runic Magic. If you didn't complete a Rune, well, it was never good. If you were like Sensei Mizuki, you could control and dispel the wild magic, but he didn't want to even think of how much practice she had had, or the scars she **had** to have gotten.

Getting bored he practiced levitating a pigeon feather he had found by using his wandless magic, which most natural Rune Masters used to create Runes, rather than use wands. Aside from drawing the Runes, in which you just had to let your magic flow and do its purpose, his wandless magic wasn't too developed.

Though he could levitate things, he couldn't do anything major with wandless magic at this point. Not to say that what he could do wasn't useful. In battle if he lost his wand, he could fling his opponent against a wall or levitate his wand back to him. In times of desperation he'd even Accioed his wand to his person. The problem was that he tired easily, as his wandless magic was really only designed to amplify his Runic Magic. It was dead annoying though, he could create a thousand Runes and not break a sweat, but do maybe 6 low-level spells and he'd be sweating buckets and shaking from fatigue.

Sighing in frustration he quickly practiced dispelling a low-level Rune, his muscles relaxing when the Rune decided that it would cooperate. He wished he could practice something other that Runic Magic but he knew that Runic Magic was an ability that allowed him to draw on the magic around him, using his core to hold the magic only briefly. He couldn't risk using his core in a more direct way right now as the more magic he practiced the longer it would take to unblock.

He couldn't wait until he could do Parselmagic though; it was something he had seen snake-face do and had long since looked up in the Chamber of Secrets. It was only useful in offensive curses because of its nature. You had to, obviously, speak in Parseltongue.

Though you needed an immunity bite from a snake to do the magic in the first place. Voldemort wasn't advanced as him in Parselmagic because he'd got himself bitten by a lower level snake, a common gardener snake if Harry remember correctly. Harry, however, had gotten his immunity bite when he survived the basilisk, the king of all snakes. So, naturally his Parselmagic had been stronger. Although, he annoyingly knew less.

He would have to get an immunity bite again, which wouldn't be pleasant. He supposed he could have gotten it from a snake at the zoo when he went with the Dursleys this time, but it just seemed better to try and hold out for the basilisk. Not that he wished that mess on Ginny Weasley again.

Thinking about all the different types of magic he could practiced when he removed the block made him nearly quiver with delight. He could hardly wait until he could fly in his Snidget form again. Though little was known about Snidgets, he had found out they could turn invisible. He was trying to transfer that over to his human form before he died; he was sure he had almost done it.

Thinking about that he realized he had **almost** done a lot of things. He had been about to take his masteries in Potions and Defence. He'd been just months from his Masteries in Charms and Transfiguration, and he had about a year until he could take his Mastery in Runes; not that he couldn't do the practical side but he still had a lot to learn about the theory and you had to be trained in something for a year before you could take a Mastery. Masteries were almost like the magical equivalent to a Muggle degree. It wasn't unknown for people to get more than one but it wasn't common either. You could get three different levels depending on your grades, first class, second class or third class. First was, naturally, the best and third the worst. Not that there was a 'worse' in Master Level work.

He had wanted to take them and show the world that he wasn't just the stupid Boy-Who-Lived. _But that's pretty much out the window now,_ Harry thought, _I'll have to go through the motions and 'relearn' everything all over again. It'll be at least nine years before I can even think of getting them again._

He also had to retrain his body, which had been difficult enough the **first** time he did it. Of course he'd been training a bit in doing his chores. He'd lift heavier loads than he normally would and it wasn't as if he didn't have some muscle; he had to doing all the labor intensive chores since he was little, after all. This time though, he wouldn't lose his muscles going into first year; he'd just train more. It wasn't like he had to actually spent time _studying_ the material after all.

Looking at his watch he saw it was 7:20. _Might as well get up and get dressed and make breakfast_, Harry thought as he grabbed his glasses. He couldn't keep the annoyance from showing on his face when he realized he'd have to wait to make his potion until at least third year. He knew he'd have to wait a while, since it was HIS potion and he couldn't just start making potions out of the blue. Though that wouldn't stop him from getting some new glasses until he could.

Walking into the kitchen he started to make breakfast, careful to keep the fat from splashing on his best clothes. Not that his best clothes were all that good, they consisted of dark blue jeans, which Aunt Petunia had obviously gotten him from a thrift shop for some special occasion she didn't want him to look like a 'freak' for, and a dark green t-shirt which must have been from a few years ago because it wasn't too loose, though it was fading a little. His scruffy black trainers were for once not too scruffy, since Dudley had had a growth spurt a few years ago an was unable to wear them, while Harry's feet had been too small for them until just after he'd arrived back in time. It was one thing Harry was happy for, not having to wear something Dudley's feet had been in. After all, who really knew what fungus Dudley's sweaty, disguising feet had?

When his Aunt came down she was surprised to see him in the kitchen. Looking at her he realized she wasn't sure if she was supposed to be happy or annoyed at his initiative, so she ignored him and sat down.

"Would you like some orange juice, Aunt Petunia?" he asked politely, wanting to be on her good side for today. She looked suspicious but nodded.

For the rest of breakfast she looked over at him, warily, from time to time but said nothing, preferring to dote on Dudley, who'd been forced to come down early that day since they were going on a trip to the shops. His Uncle Vernon had just gone out to work when his Aunt Petunia started telling him that he'd be staying at Mrs. Figg's. Just after she finished there was a knock at the door.

"Get the door." She said absently, turning back to Dudley again.

Using his mage sight he looked at the entrance hall, ignoring the wards as he focused on seeing through the door. He smiled when he saw there was indeed a magical signature. His mage sight couldn't tell him much but he could see if something was charmed -- he still hadn't figured out how to tell what spell had been used, but he was working on it -- and could see the currents of magic running through a person's body.

Opening the door, he almost fell backwards when he saw Professor Flitwick. He had been almost positive McGonagall or Hagrid would come for him. Though this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. In his past life he had gotten on very well with Flitwick, being trained by him in Charms after small man approached him, telling him that he was positive that he had his mother's talent. _Though this time, _he thought,_I should be able to do better now that my magic will have more time to recuperate from the block and that almost none of my magic should be damaged_. Shaking himself out of his stupor he asked, "How may I help you?"

"Ah, hello. My name is Filius Flitwick, I'll be one of your professors at Hogwarts. I was sent to show you around the magical world." The small professor said. Harry smiled and stepped aside, he hadn't realized how much he missed the cheerful professor until he seen him.

"Come in, I have to get my list." Harry said. It was a novel experience not having to look down at the professor, who was about four foot, five inches tall.

Filius Flitwick had been surprised when Minerva had asked him to go get Harry Potter, she had said that she had already responded to another student and so couldn't make the trip to get Harry and show him around. He had been rather excited, though not for the reason everyone thought. Harry Potter was _Lily Evans'_ son; he didn't care one whit about him being the Boy-Who-Lived or any of that rubbish. Lily Evans had been a dear friend and an excellent student while she'd been alive. It had seemed to Filius that the young girl had never wanted to stop learning even after she'd left Hogwarts; she'd been a true Ravenclaw at heart, even if she had been a Gryffindor in name. They'd started up a correspondence into the theory behind several spells after Lily had left Hogwarts which had turned into a deep friendship between the former student and her old mentor.

Filius walked up to a relatively normal house. It was bland but some people, he knew, preferred that to the extraordinary, and knocked on the door. A few moments later it was opened by a small boy with the bright, emerald green eyes he'd only seen once before in Lily Evans. He introduce himself and was shocked out of his stupor when the young Potter boy asked him in.

He watched as the boy walked over to what appeared to be a cupboard and walk in. While the boy was in there a woman who he presumed was Lily's sister came down the hallway. Seeing him her eyes went wide and her face pale and pasty before she looked around wildly, presumably for Harry. Though, Filius would have sworn he heard her whisper 'Vernon'.

Meanwhile Harry had pulled his list out from under his mattress and drew a Rune he used to be very familiar with. He couldn't believe he'd forgotten about it seeing as he used it every day, sometimes twice a day in his future/past life. Pushing his magic to seal it off he stepped through it and absorbed it. Putting his hand up to his hair he smiled and took the comb off the one shelf he was allowed and ran it through his no longer messy hair. The Rune was something Sensei had taught him after she got fed up with his hair and his ineffectual attempts to fix it. She used one herself to comb and braid her waist-length white hair in matter of seconds instead of the the minutes it would have taken to care for hair as long and thick as Sensei's mane had been.

His Rune calmed his hair which apparently, at least according to his past-life Flitwick, made him look a lot more like his mother, especially since it brought the red highlights that had been hidden in his messy mop out. The fact that back then he also didn't wear glasses also made it look like more like his mother than his father.

Walking out of the cupboard he saw his Aunt and stalled for a second before speaking as nonchalantly as he could, "I'm going to be getting my school supplies, Aunt Petunia, I'll see you later."

With that his Aunt was left gaping in the hallway as Flitwick asked him to take hold of his arm and they Apparated away.

They reappeared in the courtyard behind the Leaky Cauldron and Harry watched as the diminutive professor tapped the right brick and the wall melted away. He couldn't help but gasp, Diagon Alley never got any less impressive, no matter how often he saw it.

While Harry was looking at Diagon Alley, Filius Flitwick was looking at Harry. He looked a lot like Lily, he had her bone structure, her stature, her eyes, his hair had very faint highlights, and while the color was that of his father's, it did not stick up as he was sure it would have. He had Lily's nose as well.

He smiled at the expression on Harry's face, the awe and fascination. Seeing that look on eleven-year-olds' faces for their first dose of real magic never got boring. Maybe this was why McGonagall sent him to Harry. After all, he had been the teacher to help Lily in Diagon Alley.

"We have to go to Gringotts first, that's the wizarding bank." Filius found himself saying as he started walking towards the bank, Harry following him while he looked around rapidly, as if wishing to take it all in at once.

Harry smiled at the thought of going to Gringotts. The goblins had been pressured by Voldemort to choose a side during the War and they had chosen to fight against the megalomaniac. He had learned some Gobbledygook when a group of goblins had been stationed with him and had nothing but the highest respect for most goblins.

Walking into Gringotts he followed his professor as the diminutive man lead him up to one of the tellers. The teller received Harry's gold key and, after inspecting it, shouted for "GRIPHOOK!" and very familiar goblin came to the counter and took the key.

"Follow me." The goblin said, walking over to where Harry knew the carts were.

"You go on, Harry, I don't much like the cart rides." Professor Flitwick said, taking a seat in the comfortable looking chairs place at intervals all around the lobby.

Nodding Harry caught up with Griphook and climbed in the cart after him. Harry was grinning widely by the end of the hair-raising ride. Getting out of the cart he followed Griphook to what he knew was simply a trust fund his parents had left him in case anything had happened to them. He couldn't wait until he could go to the Family Vaults once again.

He watched as Griphook opened the Vault and, ignoring the green fog that bellowed out, he walked into the vault, being careful not to breath in the noxious gas, and heard Griphook tell him how much the coins were. Taking out the bag Griphook had given him at the start of the ride he piled some galleons, sickles and knuts into the leather pouch.

Harry kept out a single galleon.

At the end of the ride, before going into the main lobby, Harry turned to Griphook and gave him the galleon saying, "May your gold always flow."

Griphook looked downright shocked but replied with the traditional "May your life bare fruitful riches." With that Harry walked out of Gringotts with Flitwick, not noticing Griphook hurrying over to another goblin, whose eyes grew wider as Griphook said more.

Harry followed Flitwick as he walked over to a very familiar looking shop, Ollivander's. Stepping in he felt the familiar presence of Orion Ollivander and turned around in time to see a very surprised Ollivander step out of the shadows.

"Ahh, Harry Potter, I've been waiting for you." Ollivander's eyes seemed to glow, something that Harry knew was the man's Mage sight, before blinking rapidly and looking at Harry oddly. The man shook himself then went into the same speech he had the first time around. "Wand arm?" he finally asked.

"I write with my right, sir." Harry said, still playing the part of the innocent muggle-raised wizard. He'd actually been trained, by Mad-Eye the paranoid old bastard, to use his wand in both hands. He was ambidextrous now through training and didn't favor either hand or arm now.

He watched in amusement as the tape measure spun around him in an intricate dance. Ollivander eventually clapped his hands and said, "That's enough." and the tape measure sped back to him, collapsing on the floor in a heap near him. Harry went through all the wands as he did the first time, when he saw his old wand – holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather – he looked at Ollivander, after 3 years of receiving training from the man he knew Ollivander expected this one to work for him. Picking it up he felt a little connection but nothing note worthy. This was no longer his wand. His magic was _very_ different now and he'd need a _very_ different wand.

Ollivander looked confused but took the wand back without commenting on it and gave him another wand and another. Eventually Ollivander appeared defeated yet oddly eager and said, "I guess I'll be making you a custom wand."

Ollivander, with a quick "follow me," led Harry to a back room he had been to in his past life often enough. He saw Flitwick get off the chair he'd placed himself in and follow them, a look of curiosity on his withered face.

The entire process was almost identical to the last time he'd had a custom wand made. Walking over to the wand cores and picking out what he felt connected to he ended up getting the exact wand he'd had in his first life.

Eleven and a quarter inches long made of English Holly with the core of a Royal Phoenix. It was a beautiful wand, and an amazing process to watch. Ollivander had to concentrate on the owner's magic while making the wand, a hard thing to accomplish. But the end product was amazing, there were Runes along the handle and the white grain seemed almost iridescent. It showed that Ollivander was truly a master of his craft.

Harry paid Ollivander his money and left with a shocked Flitwick. "Where do we go now?" Harry asked, trying to seem more timid and innocent.

Flitwick smiled cheerfully and led Harry to Fischer's Luggage, Carriers, Crates and Trunks, where he bought a standard school trunk with minimal security and only a small hidden compartment. Shrinking the trunk Flitwick passed it to Harry, who, just for his professor, put an awed look on his face. They then headed over to Flourish & Blotts to get Harry's school books when they ran into someone Harry didn't think he'd be seeing so soon.

"Harry Potter, I presume." The familiar voice of Professor McGonagall asked him. He nodded, making sure to look slightly confused as he shook her hand. Of course he understood why she'd know who he was, but she didn't need to know that. It wouldn't do to appear to knowledgeable at this time, after all. "I'm Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House." She said, smiling at him.

Just as Harry was opening his mouth to introduce himself, a younger Hermione Granger came up to them saying, "Wow! Would you look at all these books? I got all the ones on the list, but I also got Hogwarts, A History, it sounds fascinating, have you read it?"

Hermione was just as he remembered her, at least at this point in time. McGonagall smiled at Harry and walked away with Hermione before Harry could say anything to either of them. Having seen Hermione he was reminded of how they'd all drifted apart before, during the War.

Hermione had done research for the Order and the War, but still found the time to seek Harry out and speak to him. Ron Weasley was a strategist who had come into himself and forgotten Harry and their friendship, he'd even dumped Hermione after a year of dating. Harry, of course, was a fighter who was expected to spend all his time finding new and better ways to fight the Death Eaters.

_It hurt_, he thought as he realized that he had been basically friendless when he died. _And to think we all used to be such good friends. We did everything together and I thought we'd die together._ Bill and Charlie Weasley, Ron's oldest brothers, were fighters as well, so they were some of the only Weasley's Harry spent a great deal of time with. Fred and George were creators, creating prank items that could be and were deadly in battle, such as mines and grenades; they even used a swamp in one fight in which three Death Eaters had gotten themselves trapped. Despite being very busy the twins were always popping around to see him, although sometimes he thought it was more to test products on him than to talk to him. He knew, when his temper cooled and the worst of the pranks disappeared that it was just the way the Twins were and they didn't mean any harm by it. After all, they treated Bill and Charlie the same way and they only saw the older men when they saw Harry.

Harry wondered, briefly, if he'd still make the same friends, but shook away his thoughts when Flitwick asked if he was ok, and nodding, he collected the needed books and a few extra, which he allowed Flitwick to shrink and put in his trunk.

The rest of the trip was fairly normal, or as normal as it would get, being him. They got his school robes and Harry got a few casual clothes. He also went to the opticians to get new glasses, they were fairly simple silver oval rims. Looking in the mirror at the opticians it hit him that he looked a lot different than he had the first time.

It was then that Harry fully comprehended what this meant. He wouldn't have to act as everyone expected. The first time he had been forced into situations in which he acted like everyone wanted, but he was so tired now, he just wanted to be himself, and it was with relief that he realized he finally could be.

Gathering his thoughts together yet again he convinced Flitwick to allow him to get a wand holster, which the small wizard said wasn't really necessary yet, but agreed could be useful. After that they made their way to the Apparition point.

They landed in an Alley near Privet Drive and Harry convinced the professor that he'd be all right and that he wanted his trunk kept shrunk.

Harry watched as the professor Apparated away and walked over to number 4 Privet Drive, knocking on the door. He only had a second to wonder if his uncle would kill him when he was viciously dragged in the home by the man.

As his uncle started to throw punches, all deliberately missing the face, Harry realised that this last month was not going to be a good one. He remembered belatedly that Dudley hadn't been cursed and Vernon hadn't been threatened so there was nothing stopping them. They hadn't even seen the letter with the address so had no paranoid delusions that they were being watched. Harry wasn't even sure if little Flitwick could've scared Vernon without dire threats and a show of what the professor could do to him. After all, Hagrid's size had scared Vernon just as much as the curse the large man had put on Dudley.

Harry winced as he was thrown into the cupboard and the door bolted tightly. Groaning with effort he hid the still shrunken trunk under the mattress and curled up into a ball.

It was going to be a long month...

Meanwhile Filius Flitwick was walking up to the gates of Hogwarts, a feeling of dread had settled over him when he left the Potter boy, though he couldn't longer dwell on it when Minerva engaged him in a conversation about the student she had taken to Diagon Alley, a bright witch named Hermione Granger.

However he still couldn't quite shake that feeling of dread.

**Chapter Four**

It was August 27th and Harry was wishing he hadn't changed time so much. His back, ribs and chest were badly bruised; when the Dursleys realized just what he'd done, the gloves had come off.

The Dursleys had always been abusive, a slap here, a kick or a shove there, nothing spectacular. Well, Petunia had nearly taken his head off with a frying pan when he'd been six (and again after first year but that, technically, hadn't happened) which could be considered pretty bad, but Harry had ducked and the shot missed. Mostly Harry just had to deal with them lying to him and belittle him every chance they got. Over the years he'd garnered a few beatings, often when he did accidental magic. Though, they usually just belittled him, and starved him and locked him in his cupboard for days on end. This time around it was much worse; the beatings over this last month had been frequent and severe, leaving him gasping in pain, when he was conscious after a beating that was. He'd had to stop practicing magic after he removed the final block on his core the morning after his visit to Diagon Alley, and since he needed to let it regenerate he could only use minor spells in times of great need.

He had used his magic to undo the lock on the cupboard, and while he had managed it the process had exhausted him. But still, he'd he was able to get some food and water and hid it before locking the cupboard up and passing out.

He had no other options, so he'd have to sit the abuse out.

As he closed his eyes, drifting into dreamland, he hoped to himself that he could last up until September.

He'd been part way through a dream about Quidditch against a team of bunnies, who were winning by the way, when a different scene started to play out. He saw himself, in his cupboard. There was a half eaten biscuit on the floor so he knew it was tomorrow, since he remembered leaving it there today. He saw himself staring into space, organizing his Occlumency shields, which was all he was really doing, or capable of doing, these days. He wondered why he was having this weird dream when the cupboard door slammed open, bouncing off the wall to hit Vernon in the side who leveled a vicious glared at it then at Harry. His uncle stood menacingly in the doorway. _Not much new there,_ Harry thought, this scene had become quite commonplace over the last month. Or at least Harry didn't think it was so uncommon until the other him snapped his eyes open just in time to watch a bread knife get stabbed through his heart.

The scene blurred until Harry found himself in the White Room with the Tapestry where he'd met the three women. He was breathing as harshly as if it had been him who had been stabbed. Atropos was standing in front of him, smiling sadly, her eyes just as unseeing as before but seemed to be filled with compassion. "What was that?" He asked, still shaken.

"Your future." She said simply, as if they were discussing the weather.

"How would you know?" Okay, so he was being rude. But he didn't **want** to die. He couldn't. Not by his worthless uncle's hand!

"As I've told you before, I see things, even when the time line is interfered with I see things. One of those things was your demise and I **just** went against Zeus' wish to allow you to redo your life. I'm **not** just going to stand back and let you get killed. Especially not because some insignificant muggle decided to go berserk and kill you."

"Oh- So why did you show me my, uh, demise." Harry asked awkwardly.

"So you could stop it, of course. It will be happening at 8:34 tomorrow morning." With that the room faded and Harry woke up with a jolt, sweat pouring off his face.

Sitting up quickly he felt something drop into his lap. Looking down he saw a silver locket. It had an hourglass on the face and on the back words were written. The inscription read, "A posse ad esse."

Opening it up he saw a picture of his parents and across from it was a clock, which read 8:23. Meaning he still had 11 minutes left until his uncle meant to kill him. Looking the clock again he saw it, too, was inscribed. His eyes widened in shock as he saw it said, "A gift from the Fates."

Harry _knew_ he'd known them from somewhere! The names seemed so familiar but for some reason it hadn't clicked in his head before. There were brief references of people seeing them in "visions" throughout history from the beginning of the written word. He'd read about them when he researched prophecies and destiny.

Smiling contentedly he shut the locket then put it around his neck, tucking it under his shirt. Pulling out the shrunken trunk he put it in the pocked of his jeans, which were the ones he'd worn on his outing with Flitwick, then he retrieving his new glasses and put them in his pocket for safe keeping. His new wand holster went on his right arm with his wand in it.

Harry pushed the old glasses he'd had forever up the bridge of his nose; he'd taken to wearing them, lest his new ones be broken, even with the charms and spells on them, when his uncle hit him.

Opening the locket he saw it read 8:32. Two minutes.

Releasing the catch on the holster his wand shot into his hand and he held it up in the ready position. When a thought stuck him. The only reason he'd managed to practice magic beforehand was because the Ministry only tracked wanded and accidental magic. They couldn't track the Rune Magic because it was pulled from the surrounding area, it was wild.

However, if he started throwing spells around, then no doubt a Ministry worker or even a representative from Hogwarts would come. They couldn't be complex spells, he wasn't even a first year yet, perhaps just "Expelliarmus." It was a first year spell and Flitwick had seen him read some of the book when he'd brought it so he had an excuse for knowing it even though his trunk and all his books and supplies were still shrunk. So they wouldn't be too suspicious and he doubted he could do much more than that, even with his wand, as his magic still wasn't fully restored. That would still take a few days still but it would be done by September 2nd which was when classes started.

As 8:34 rolled around the door slammed open and as his uncle came into view. Harry shouted, "Expelliarmus!" and threw his uncle back into the hallway but that didn't stop the man for long as he got right back up and came at him, this time without the knife which had flown into the cupboard with Harry and Vernon was still too large to fit into the small cupboard and get the knife. Harry knew the man couldn't reach him but shouted "Expelliarmus!" again, feeling his magic protest its use as the blow barely knocked Vernon down. It wouldn't work a third time, Harry knew. He knew the signs of magical exhaustion better than most Healers. Vernon had gotten up for the second time and was lumbering toward Harry who had the spell on the tip of his tongue when a red light came out of no where and knocked his uncle out.

Turning his head he saw Dumbledore, Flitwick and McGonagall standing in the hallway wands drawn and pointed at Vernon's unmoving form. They looked shocked and were staring between Harry, Vernon and the cupboard where the knife was visible for all to see, stained red with blood, his blood. He looked down and saw that the knife had sliced open his side, nothing deep but a wound that bled noticeably. He hadn't even notice it get him when it came flying at him, his adrenalin was too high to feel it even now. Wands usually just slapped into you and fell harmlessly to the floor, he hadn't considered the fact that the knife would cut him. He was about to thank them, even opened his mouth to do so, however, his magic had different ideas. He only had a second to realize what was happening as his magic shut his conscious thoughts down and sent him into inky darkness, trying to recharge itself without interruption.

Meanwhile Albus Dumbledore watched as Harry crumpled to the floor, blood flowing into the carpet around the small boy. Vernon was still knocked out and with the power of three spells would be for several days if someone didn't wake him up. He was about to go check on the small boy when he heard someone shriek, "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO MY HUSBAND!"

Looking up he saw Petunia, and his eyes turned ice cold. "How _dare_ you!" He found himself hissing. "I left him in your care and I come here and find you husband with his fist raised about to strike him! A **child** Petunia! I find that the boy looks like he was beaten every day this week, he looks like he hasn't eaten in weeks and he's _bleeding_." He barely noticed as Flitwick darted forward to check on Harry, he continued speaking in a cold voice, "Why? What could he have done for you to allow your husband to do such a thing?"

Petunia felt a brief flash of guilt, but it wasn't her fault! She couldn't exactly stop Vernon, just look at the size difference and secretly she wasn't sure she would have if she could, she'd gotten a thrill at seeing Pretty Perfect Lily's brat helpless before her. But where did this wizard get away with insinuating she owed that child anything. Pushing back memories of a helpless emerald green gaze, she glared defiantly at him. She hadn't asked the freaks to dump the boy on them, hadn't asked him to stay. They were lucky she hadn't just given him up for adoption or put him out on the street – which had really been her first thought when she'd first seen the boy on her doorstep.

McGonagall put a reassuring hand on the headmasters arm before nodding at Flitwick who was levitating Harry. Dumbledore sent one last glare at Petunia, promising they hadn't seen the last of him, before pulling out an emergency portkey that was programmed for the hospital wing. He hadn't ever expected to use it, he thought sadly but it was standard for all members of the staff to carry them in case a student – or even staff member – were ever injured gravely enough that they couldn't make the trip to Poppy's Wing.

Landing in the hospital wing Dumbledore watched as Filius lay Harry down on a bed. "Poppy!" he shouted, waiting anxiously for the medi-witch.

Sure enough she came out of her office, looking flustered, she was about to ask what he was shouting about when she saw Harry's bloody form. Gasping as she hurried forward and, demanding to know what happened, she started waving her wand in quick, efficient movements. After being told about the "rescue" in a rather condensed form she shooed them all out, and settled into work. She took pictures of the various wounds for when the Aurors came to take statements.

Waking up Harry found himself in what he knew to be the hospital wing, he'd been there often enough to know it just by smell. He wondered why he was there when it all came flashing back to him... the dream, Vernon, the knife, Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick. He found himself blushing as he'd never actually wanted anyone to see him like that, he'd planned to simply get through it and come to Hogwarts without anyone being any wiser. They hadn't learn in his last life, after all.

Spying his trousers and top on the bench next to his bed he pulled out his trunk and new glasses. He put them on as and swung his legs off the bed, with his shrunken trunk held in his hands. He only had one foot on the floor, the other was still raised in the air, when he saw Madam Pomfrey come out of the office. She hurried over to him and tucked him back into bed, taking his trunk and putting it on the sideboard again.

"Hello, dear, my name is Madam Pomfrey. I'm the nurse in charge of the Hogwarts Infirmary Wing." He heard her say in a soft voice, ah yes, he remembered; he wasn't supposed to know anything about this. So he wouldn't know who Pomfrey was.

"Hi, where am I?" he whispered, trying not to wince at his still childish voice, even though she'd technically told him he could play disoriented for a while until he got his bearings and keeping her talking was the best way to by time.

"Hogwarts Infirmary, dear, do you know how you got here?" She replied. Harry DID remember, or at least, he could guess. But what was he supposed to say? Last time around no one had noticed and even if they had he wouldn't have said anything, he'd been too insecure in his last life, too prideful. _How was anyone supposed to think he could defeat a dark lord if he couldn't even escape his own muggle uncle?_ That had been what he thought anytime he got the urge to tell someone what his life had been like.

Apparently Pomfrey took his silence as confirmation that he wouldn't say anything, but pushed on anyway. "Harry, has your uncle ever hurt you? Before this I mean." She asked gently.

"No!" This time he did wince. His shout had been an automatic response, he HAD planned on telling them or at least telling them enough so that his relatives wouldn't make a repeat next holiday since the cat was already out of the bag, anyways. He _wouldn't_ live through that again. "I-well you see, it-" he continued, trying to get the words pass the lump in his throat. It had always been hard to talk about his 'family,' though most people, even Hermione when they had been best friends, never asked about them. They knew the Dursleys didn't like him, he didn't like them, and that was the end of it. It never went any farther.

It was then Madam Pomfrey did something Harry had never seen her do before: she got up from her chair, sat on the edge of his bed pulled him gently into her arms and hugged him. Tightly. He'd been hugged before, a few times by Mrs. Weasley and on occasion by Hermione, but it never felt any less weird. Warmth spread through him at the contact and that always bothered him. No matter how good and safe he felt hugs always bothered him.

Harry sat tense in her arms until she started to rub his back. Something broke inside him and he found himself crying into the medi-witch's shoulder. Huge, breath-taking sobs that seemed to come from the very center of his soul. They hurt his chest and throat as they came out, but it felt so good. Like a vast weight was slowly being chipped away from his very being. He knew he was technically 19 years old and that sobbing on the shoulder of _anyone_ was too 'childish,' but as all the memories started flooding back he couldn't help himself. He started speaking, not even paying attention to what was coming out of his mouth, but he knew. It was about all the hurt the Dursleys had inflicted upon him. All the pain and loneliness. The bruises and the tears. It all came pouring out until he was babbling and the woman couldn't have understood him but she still held him and made soothing noises at him, rocked him and rubbed his back gently.

"He hurts me, she let him, she watched, she knows, she doesn't care. They just lock me in my cupboard and forget I'm there and if I made a noise then he'd come and it hurt and..." He continued on for a period of time until his voice gave out and he lay against the woman, exhausted. His eyes were swollen and sore and his throat and chest ached. Harry didn't even have the energy to berate himself. Pomfrey laid him against the bed and tucked the covers around him. He didn't feel the warm wet cloth she pressed against his eyes because his magic yet again sent him into the land of dreams.

Pomfrey fondly brushed away a stray hair, revealing the lightening-shape scar, but unlike she had seen it last, it was now pale silver, almost like most normal scars. She removed the cloth from his eyes, hoping they wouldn't be sore when the boy woke up. Shaking her head she left the room to go and write up the paperwork that never ended, even during the summer.

A few hours later Harry woke from a peaceful sleep; he thought about getting up but figured he wouldn't get far with Pomfrey about. Staring at the castle wall he wondered exactly what he would do differently this time around. Would he still be the glorious Gryffindor, or would he be more recluse like he had been during his last year of his other self. He'd already seen what changing things could do and wasn't really sure he was ready for everything and everyone to completely change.

He was naturally what most considered anti-social, he enjoyed burying himself in books for hours on end and ignoring the entire world outside his little bubble. He also knew that that had been his major problem the first time around. People had flipped opinions of him so much because no one outside Hermione and Ron really knew him. He didn't speak to anyone and so they didn't know him. He hadn't even really been friends with the Gryffindor Quidditch team, though he'd been friendly. He was, however, the Boy-Who-Lived and it was hardly expected of him to be a brainy little Ravenclaw. But he wasn't expected to be an abused child either.

Making his decision he lay back down and settled in for another tranquil sleep, knowing that he could finally be himself.

The next day quite a few different people visited Harry.

First Pomfrey came back to do a check up and reapply some bruise salve. She was different from his other life, smiling gently at him and when she found him up and about to use the toilet, she only gently chided him before helping him to the room then leaving him on his own. Whereas last time he would have gotten his head bitten off and a lecture an hour long on doing what he was told.

Not long after that Dumbledore came, introducing himself and telling Harry that he'd be staying at Hogwarts for the rest of today, since it was September first the very next day. He had tried to convince Harry to go on the train the next day, but after seeing Harry's wary eyes and having Harry plead to just stay at the school, he relented, thinking that the boy had been through enough without adding what he knew would be hordes of children and their parents gawking at the boy. No it was certainly best that he just stay at Hogwarts. There was plenty of time to ride the train for the next seven years.

Next was Flitwick who had apparently come to un-shrink his trunk, which he did, before telling Harry that he could come to him at any time, day or night as his door was always open. They spent half and hour talking about Harry's parents and Harry even learned a few new things, mostly about his mother.

Hagrid also quickly popped in -- looking just as Harry remembered him, too huge to be allowed, with big hands and an even bigger heart -- giving Harry a very familiar white bird.

"Thanks-" Harry started, but stopped before saying anything that could incriminate him.

"Hagrid, jus' Hagrid. 'm sorry 'arry, bu' I gotta be goin'. I'll see yeh at the feast." Hagrid said before walking to the exit.

"Hedwig." Harry whispered. Death Eaters had been trying to get a letter from his loyal owl and had killed her early in the war. He couldn't believe how much he had missed her, he hadn't even realized it until she was in front of him. Hedwig hooted softly at him, blinking large intelligent eyes before nipping him affectionately.

The rest of the day was spent in relative ease. He re-read some of his first year books, petted Hedwig and chatted to a disgruntled Pomfrey, who didn't like an owl in her infirmary, but said nothing.

The next day Harry was gently awakened. When he opened his eyes he was surprised to see it was about four in the afternoon. He quickly got over his shock when he realized his magic was back in full flow. It never ceased to amaze him how much his magic had been damaged. It was hard to damage your magic, but when it was done it never worked quite the same again. Getting up he smiled in thanks to the medi-witch before getting his school robes from their place at the end of the bed and walking to the bathroom.

Poppy Pomfrey watched sadly as he walked away, she doubted the boy knew just how much of a mess he had been when he came in. It had scared her half to death. She had been the attending medi-witch at his birth and to see him in such a state was shocking, and to be done by his own family made it so much worse, abuse cases always got to her. She didn't see many of them but it broke her heart every time she did.

She smiled at him as he walked back out, his hair had obviously been brushed, because now it lay flatly on his head, a deep charcoal with crimson flecks. He looked just like his mother. She had been almost positive he'd be a spitting image of his father. Perhaps it was the hair, she mused. When he came in it was a mess and he had looked identical to his father.

Shaking her head she told him that it'd be another half hour yet and sat down with him to talk.

At 6:00 Harry found himself in the antechamber of the Great Hall near the first years. Near because he was currently hidden in the shadows at the back of the room. He tagged on the end of the line and followed them into the Great Hall when McGonagall bid them to follow. He smiled at the ceiling, knowing it was done by one of the first known natural Rune Masters, Rowena Ravenclaw.

He absently listened to the Sorting Hat's song; it was precisely the same as last time, so it wasn't exactly holding his attention. He absently noticed everyone getting sorted, it was so odd to see them so young and in some cases, alive. It was unreal. But he supposed he'd have to get used to it sooner or later. Well that or go crazy, something that he didn't what.

He waited patiently until his name was called out before walking up to the hat, ignoring all the whispers that broke out in the Hall. Sitting down he allowed it to be dropped onto his head, thankful he didn't have to lower his Occlumency shields, since he'd long ago learned the Sorting Hat read their minds in a very different sort of way.

"Well, well, well." A very familiar voice whispered. "A time traveler. How odd. Let's see, plenty of courage and cunning, loyalty that would make Helga proud, but I fear there is only one place that would suit you. Have fun in..." And before Harry could even speak or object the hat shouted out "RAVENCLAW!"

Getting down, Harry happily walked over to the table, ignoring the shocked silence that filled the once buzzing Hall. Though, luckily for Harry, who was just starting to feel awkward, the Ravenclaw table eventually started clapping and the Sorting went on.

He listened intently to Dumbledore give the same speech as last time, which meant the Stone was still here. Then he tucked into his food trying to puzzle out the feeling that was lodged in his gut. Smiling, he finally figured it out.

He was _home_.

**Chapter Five**

Waking up the next morning, Harry looked around wondering where he was when it all came back. There were five other beds, within them were; Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Stephen Cornfoot, Kevin Entwhistle and Anthony Goldstein. All of whom he'd met the night before.

Pulling the locket out from under the t-shirt he went to bed in, he opened it and checked the time. Seeing that it was six in the morning (a time in his past life he'd be used to getting up at) he decided he might as well get up now. No use in wasting time, after all.

Pushing his covers down he walked to his trunk and pulled out his school uniform. Getting dressed, and combing his now straight red-tinted hair and re-doing the runic work on it just in case (no point in having it mess up while he couldn't fix it), he put on his new silver oval-shaped glasses. He plucked out a diary-like book he'd grabbed at the bookstore. He didn't have many books other than his school ones because he knew no matter how smart he was it'd seem odd if he had too many books, let alone any advanced ones, but this was one book he'd allowed himself to purchase since he didn't have his last one.

The book itself was quite amazing, it was a dark blue book with the Eihwaz Rune on the front, protecting from others reading it; it also stood for insight which was originally put there for those who were not Rune masters to give them inspiration to do what needed to be done. The book had a bronze lock holding it together so it truly looked Ravenclaw. You weren't supposed to have this type of book until you had "played around" with Runes for a good few years; he himself had only had a book like this for two months in his past life.

Shaking his head, he pulled on his outer robe and grabbed the book, a special quill he'd bought, and some ink. Walking at a sedate pace to the Great Hall he thought about the quill, it wasn't special looking, it was a nice black color with a tinge of green and purple, but it had Runes carved into it, courtesy of Harry. These types of quills were used to do runic work and **only** runic work.

Walking into the Great Hall, he was just in time to see the food come on the table, so it was just turning seven. He ignored the looks he got from Dumbledore and the four Heads of Houses, the only ones who were up at this hour, as he sat down at his table and grabbed an apple and some orange juice. He ate them contentedly, ignoring the looks he got as more and more people came in, concentrating on the runic book in front of him and placing the quill Runes on the first page and a description of what they did, as was mandatory, since everyone had different Runes on their quill, everyone had different needs and wants.

He was about to start on his "hair Runes" when he felt someone tap on his shoulder. Turning he saw Professor Flitwick, smiling as Harry accepted the timetable. Shutting his Rune Book he gathered his bag up before leaving the Great Hall, making his way back up to Ravenclaw tower.

Coming to a halt in front of a suit of armour with the Ravenclaw crest secretly hidden on it's hand, he listened to the riddle it gave him ("I look at you, you look at me, I raise my right, you raise your left. What is this object?" to which the answer was, "Yourself in a mirror."). Walking past the suit of armour, which had stepped to the side and through a wall he looked at his timetable.

He had three frees, which he knew he would. Today was Monday, he knew, so he had one was today after lunch, but he still had Potions and Charms in the morning. He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to Potions or dreading it.

Walking through the corridor to the first year's room, he grabbed his bag, put quills, ink, parchment and his books into it, including his runic one. He looked into the mirror and then made his way back down the stairs, saying nothing to the few people who were in the common room.

He walked to the Potions classroom at a leisurely pace knowing he'd arrive early anyway. True to his thought he arrived at the potions classroom at 8:25, when the potions master wouldn't arrive for another five minutes. Looking around he saw all of the Ravenclaws were already there, though he didn't expect any less. Taking a second, closer look at them, he saw they were all partnered up. Sighing, he went to a desk of his own at the back of the classroom.

The Hufflepuffs soon arrived and they all sat together.

He watched with hidden amusement as Snape started the speech he did with all first years ending with, "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death — if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

The Hufflepuffs looked petrified while the Ravenclaws looked ready to prove they were not _Dunderheads_. Holding back a snort Harry carefully kept his face blank. This time when Snape took his register and commented that Harry was "our new celebrity," Harry barely batted an eyelash.

He wasn't surprised when Snape started firing the same questions at him as before, though this time he looked oddly surprised since Harry had given the correct answers. Instead of getting angry like Harry had expected he simply carried on with the lesson.

It was then Harry realized just where, or rather **what** he was. He was a Ravenclaw; he would be expected to know the answers, which could work to his advantage. Shaking himself out of his stupor he started working on the potion.

Meanwhile Severus Snape was watching the Potter boy with hidden amazement. Potter Senior hadn't been proficient in potions; actually he had been quite awful and Lily had...well she had been brilliant at everything but to think the boy took after his mother with that hair was nearly a crime. He surreptitiously watched the boy work throughout the lesson and was amazed at what he saw.

The potion was perfect. Looking at the boy he wondered how the spawn of Potter could do anything well. It was then he noticed something that had bypassed him when he was studying the boy's work and not necessarily his person. The boy who had been born with messy black hair and who everyone had insisted would look exactly like James Potter looked nothing like him.

Oh there was no question he was Potter Senior's son, but the boy had far more of Lily's characteristics than one would expect. His hair was smooth and in the candle light red highlights could be seen. The green eyes looking over silver oval-shaped glasses were Lily's too, and he appeared to have her stature as well and her nose. Though the boy had Potter Senior's cheekbones and general hair colour.

Snape argued with himself that he could still act like Potter Senior but the boy didn't seem to have friends. The boy was still obviously given privileges like Potter Senior being brought to school early, though he didn't know why since everyone refused to tell him. Shaking his head as if clearing his jumbled thoughts, Snape walked over to a few Hufflepuffs to berate them for their potions, which, while they were the wrong colour, had thankfully not blown up, and ordered everyone to put their potions into vials and label them. They did so and as they left he found himself looking at Harry Potter's perfect potion.

This year promised to be interesting.

Harry was walking to Transfiguration, knowing that there was half an hour between classes, but knowing he didn't want to be asked ridiculous questions or talk to anyone really. So he went straight to the Transfigurations room, knowing that not even the most studious of Ravenclaws would be there that early.

Sitting at the front he took out his book and equipment and was startled when he saw someone sit next to him out of the corner of his eye.

Turning he saw it was Hermione Granger. Thinking back he wondered why he didn't remember that they had Transfigurations with Ravenclaws first year.

"My name's Hermione Granger." The brown haired girl said, looking at him.

"Harry-" he didn't get to finish because Hermione interrupted.

"Potter I know- I've read all about you. You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding-"

"-Events of the Twentieth Century, I know." Harry finished dryly, cringing slightly when he realised this really wasn't **his** Hermione.

"You know it's _rude_ to interrupt." Hermione pointed out looking annoyed.

Harry knew Hermione was just nervous because she always used to interrupt people and ramble when she was nervous or trying to prove something. It just didn't make it any less annoying. He loved his Hermione like a sister, this just wasn't his Hermione. This was the Hermione from 9 years ago and he didn't know if he could connect with her like before.

"I'm sorry, but you did interrupt me first and I don't like people knowing more about me than I do. Wouldn't you find it slightly disconcerting to have books being written about you? Especially since if you put them all together none of them agree on any of the point beside the fact that Voldemort came to my house, my parents died, Voldemort's body was destroyed and I was hit by the Killing Curse." Hermione looked less annoyed and nodded in sympathy though she looked rather put out when he implied that he thought any of the books were wrong.

Turning back to his book, Harry started reading, trying to keep his mind off how hard it was to see his friends like this. He knew they'd grown apart, but with them like this it was almost as if they had a world between them. No, not a world, just time. Years and years of time.

Soon the lesson started, in the exact same way as it had last time they were told to turn the matchstick into a needle which Harry did perfectly on his first try. He knew he should probably try look average, try to fit in, but for once he wanted to be special, to show them he earned everything he got. For his transformation he got 30 points, seeing as he transformed it back as well. Besides, he knew that no First Year since Minerva McGonagall herself – and Albus Dumbledore before her – changed their needles on the first lesson. Even Hermione had taken two lessons to do so the first time around. He was instructed to try and transform it into something else, like a bent needle. He was tempted to simply transform it into a needle and bend it but instead concentrated on making the needle a circle. After a few attempts he had managed it, though as he squinted at it, it looked a little more like an oval than a circle.

He looked up to smile at Hermione when he caught her glaring sullenly at him. She had only managed to make her needle go pointy without even the silver shine she'd gotten last time. She had apparently been to busy resenting him to actually try the work herself.

Looking back down he felt like he could hit himself. He knew Hermione had usually been the best and was proud of this fact, seeing it as a way of proving herself as good as a pureblood. It had defined her even after they left school. He thought for a brief moment about not trying so hard before shaking his head.

He had an unfair advantage yes, but you always play to your advantages. Hermione sure did as she had confessed to him in sixth year that she had an eidetic memory and an IQ of 143, putting her in the gifted range. So he wasn't going to play dumb because it'd make Hermione happy. Hermione would make friends with him for him. If not... then she just wasn't meant to be a friend. He at least hoped she'd make friends, since out of Ron and Hermione when he'd died he'd been closer to Hermione, still talking to her on occasion about a book one of them had read.

He went to lunch and sat on his own, eating a sandwich and some pumpkin juice before taking off to the library. Sitting at a small table near a corner he put his bag down and went to go look for a book. Finding it where he knew it would be he went back to his table. He flipped through the book until he found the page he needed, it was an incantation he'd read about before dying and he had wanted to put it on his Rune book.

Reading out the long Latin phrase he watched with pride as the book flashed a bright green then a serene blue before going back to normal. Putting his Rune Book back in his bag he went back to the shelf where he'd found the book only to run into Emilia Astray, the Ancient Runes professor.

"Ahh, Mr. Potter, do you mind if I borrow that book?" she asked. Nodding Harry handed it to her before picking another and going back to his table. He started to read the book, which went over the basics, knowing it never hurt to brush up on them. He was so involved in reading the book that he started when someone spoke to him.

"Interesting book. You're interested in Ancient Runes?" Professor Astray asked, leaning her hip against the table. Harry nodded, he didn't really know her since she had died in his sixth year in a surprise attack and he hadn't taken Runes at Hogwarts. Her blue eyes sparkled with intelligence and her brown hair was messily tied back. She appeared to be quite friendly. "I am as well, well, obviously since I'm the Ancient Runes teacher. Would you like to see something cool?" she sounded quite like a kid in a candy store.

He nodded again and watched as she pulled out a book, a Rune Book much like his.

He was surprised she was showing it him. A Rune Book was personal. Though he'd heard that she kept two different ones, an academic and a private. He'd have to look into doing that himself. Pushing aside his thoughts he looked at the page she was showing him. To any other first year it would look like a complicated mess of scribbles, hell, to any _sixth_ year it would like a mess of scribbles. To him it looked like English. It was a ward, obviously she'd been working hard on it as it was extremely complex, involving many different wards intertwined together. Some he knew but a few he hadn't seen before. She was about to shut the book, thinking he was confused like she'd expected him to be when he gently took her wrist stopping her.

"Your Kenaz Rune is misplaced, you need to put it next to your Hagalaz Rune." He said simply. Looking down her eyes widened as she frantically grabbed her Runic Quill and started making alterations.

Half an hour later she looked up and he was gone. She cursed herself softly before promising that she'd get to know the Potter boy.

Harry had realized he sounded too knowledgeable. Though he could put it down to having read the book and being a natural Runic Master. He smiled, well that was a good way for them to find out.

**Chapter Six**

It was very much like being in a Pensieve, since Harry already knew a lot of what would happen, so he was now focusing on the little details he would otherwise have missed.

Like the fact that Percy Weasley would secretly smile when he saw one of his brothers' pranks but hide it before anyone could really see.

Or that Pansy Parkinson didn't even like Malfoy, as she made snide remarks at him when she thought no one could hear, and faces at him when his back was turned.

Or that Hannah Abbott was an absolute genius when it came to Herbology, which was very good as she was paired with him in that lesson and the plants all seemed intent on hurting him.

Or that Neville Longbottom was the only Gryffindor other than Hermione that stayed awake in History and took meticulous notes.

He hadn't realised before how quickly everyone stuck him with a label. In his past life he had been the Gryffindor Golden Boy, prepared to throw himself into danger without first making plans of _any_ kind, and he had only reinforced that label each and every year.

In this life, however, he was an intelligent recluse. On the downside it meant he didn't really have any friends. On the upside it also meant he didn't have any enemies.

Although there were those he would work with in various classes. In Astronomy he usually worked with Padma who seemed fascinated by him, though unlike her sister it seemed she was far more interested in his intelligence than anything else. She was constantly asking him questions about what he thought about a certain theory. In History he sat next to Neville and while they didn't talk a comfortable silence existed between them. They were friendly without words. In Charms he worked with Pansy Parkinson who was surprisingly brilliant and was happy to discuss them at length with him. Harry found it odd at first until he ignored the fact that in her past life he'd thought of her as simply another egotistical ignorant Slytherin. So when he found out that she really did enjoy learning, it was a pleasant surprise.

Hannah Abbott, who had approached him in Herbology in their first lesson, was a very kind and introvert person who he wouldn't have minded getting to know better. Unfortunately, Hufflepuffs rarely spoke to Ravenclaws outside of class and Hannah seemed to follow this trend almost subconsciously. In the one class so far that he had had to work with anyone in Potions he had worked with Su Li who, while usually very chatty, was extremely serious when she worked on a potion, dismissing the usually girlish air and showing that she truly belonged in Ravenclaw, which was something he truly respected her for.

In Transfigurations he found himself still working next to and on occasion with Hermione Granger. It had become almost competition-like between them to see who could produce better results the fastest. Though she seemed less annoyed about Harry doing so well in the second lesson and instead focused on being better than him. He hoped that one day soon she would realise what her other self never had. That it was all right not to be the best at everything.

Finally in Defence Against the Dark Arts he found himself working with Susan Bones who, even at this age, was brilliant at curses. She had even confided that she was almost sorted into Ravenclaw, as she chatted excitedly about almost OWL-level defence spells.

As it was he felt fairly happy. True, he didn't really have friends outside of classes but he could deal with that, and who knew, perhaps they would become closer later on. For the moment was he was focused on training himself, using the Room of Requirement to try and reach a stage similar to what he had before being sent back. He had made great headway in only a few days with working on regaining some of his past abilities but didn't use the room too much, hoping that it would draw less suspicion.

He knew it had only been a week. That this was his free lesson on a surprisingly warm Friday afternoon but he couldn't stop. He couldn't fail them this time. He would get smarter, faster, stronger. Be _better_.

"Hello Harry." A voice spoke from behind him, shocking him out of his thoughts. As he spun around he tried not to drop the books he'd been pulling off the shelves. "Sorry about that, didn't mean to surprise you!" Said the now-familiar voice of Emilia Astray. By his free on Wednesday morning she had tracked him down and had simply stared at him with her intense cobalt-blue eyes.

Emilia Astray was a very unusual person, she had to be in her early twenties and had obviously worked extremely hard to get to where she was, as she wasn't a natural Rune Master and so deciphering Runes was much harder and took a lot of dedication.

She wasn't beautiful in a traditional way. With uncontrollable curly brown hair, a slightly plump figure and unusual olive skin, most wouldn't look at her twice. But with her penetrating eyes and generally positive outlook on life there was something that drew him to her.

In reality, she was his only friend.

"Don't do that!" He scolded her as soon as the books steadied in his arms.

"Oh don't get your knickers in a twist. I was just wondering if you were busy. I've got a staff meeting at five and nothing to do in the mean time." She whispered conspiringly, peaking over at the prickly librarian who seemed to greatly dislike the hyperactive professor.

"Yes, I'm studying." He said simply, though knowing this would not distract the professor.

She looked at him queerly for a few moments before speaking in usual casual tone. "You know, you have to be the only first year who spends their frees neck high in books, it's barmy. It's a wonderful Friday afternoon, probably the last there will be for ages this time of year and you're all cooped up in here."

"I like studying." He knew he must sound slightly peevish, but she didn't understand his need to correct the past, he had to make things right again.

"Never the less this is ridiculous. You have the whole weekend ahead of you if you're really that desperate to study. Anyway, I'm bored, so I'm afraid that we'll be going outside." With that she pulled the books out of his hands, walked over to Madam Pince, and unceremoniously dropped the books on her desk before grabbing onto his hand and marching out of the library.

Looking back at the messy array of books, he understood why the now-flustered librarian didn't seem to like the Runes Professor.

So it was that until nearly five o'clock the unusual paring wondered around the lake, talking about nonsensical topics such as if Snape and Trelawney were faced against each other on a Quidditch pitch, who would win? Or how many steps there were in Hogwarts.

Emilia Astray was an unusual person. This was a well known fact and she knew it.

There had been a short period in her schooling days when she had desperately tried to fit in. Smoothing down her wild mane and trying to be the ideal Ravenclaw. As it was, she had never really succeeded. Now in her teaching days she often found herself drawn to the most curious people. Though she had been teaching for three years, ever since she was 21. So she hadn't actually taught that many people as she only taught the third years and over and very few people were interested in Runes.

Nevertheless those she chose as her "favourites" were quite odd.

Now, most would call her bias. But really, every teacher was, and as she sat in the staff meeting she could tell from how they talked of the first years that everyone had a favourite.

They did it every year, you see. They sat down and talked about the most promising new-comers, though she rarely said much about first years as she only taught third.

Minerva already seemed excited about some girl named Hermione. Snape naturally chose some Slytherin who was probably actually quite awful at the subject, Sprout went on about how everyone was just as good as everyone else and Flitwick told everyone his Ravenclaws were simply brilliant.

Ironically, no one had yet to mention Harry Potter and so, as usual, she took the initiative.

"I think Harry Potter will be quite good as Ancient Runes."

Naturally Snape sneered. "You haven't even taught the boy!"

Similar comments were made along with a few more snide comments from Snape about being dazzled by his fame.

Finally, the headmaster's voice floated through the commotion. "And why do you say that Emilia?"

"Well for one, he took on look at a complex ward I have been working on for _ages_ and corrected it for me, and for another he already seems interested in them. I caught him looking through books about the subject every day this week." She liked to think she didn't sound too self-satisfied.

"Really?" Flitwick squeaked, sounding slightly smug. "Well I'd have thought he'd follow his mother, he's very good at Charms you see."

And so it went on for quite some time.

Though, what they didn't know was that Harry Potter would solve their argument, just the next day.

**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or a PM and I'll do my best to answer. **


	2. Chapter 7 Rum and Runes

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** (tentatively) Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Several people have made comments both in review and as Pm asking if I'm going to have Harry be friends with the Weasleys and/or Hermione. I haven't really decided. I like all their characters and I think Ron is treated a little harshly (just a little mind) by Fans of the Book but I don't know if _this_ Harry could be friends with _this_ Ron. And so with _this_ Hermione. I do plan for him to be at least friendly with the Twins but I want your opinion. **Who do _you_ think should be Harry's friends?** (It goes without saying that Luna will be his friend). By the by be happy my friend is a good person or I'd never have gotten this chapter up. My Internet plug thingy broke so my Internet doesn't work. Happy Joy.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

**Rum and Runes **

Despite being a Saturday and not even 6am, Harry Potter was wide awake.

After the Runes teacher had wondered off to the staff meeting yesterday he had rushed back to the castle, apologised profusely to the librarian, and gathered up the books the Runes professor had carelessly discarded. He knew it wasn't healthy studying so much, but after going to defence class and coming out with a Voldemort-induced headache, which seemed far worse than anything he'd had before Voldemort's return in his fourth year, it suddenly seemed clearer what his purpose was, because Voldemort was right in one thing, knowledge was power. If he was as sensitive to Voldemort now as he was after his Rebirth the first time then how was he ever going to survive Voldemort's Second Rebirth?

With this in mind he read as much as possible, mainly categorising texts so when he needed something he would only have to look down the list and the brief summary. He figured one day he would buy a book and do it properly, but for now the steadily-growing roll of parchment would do. After all, magical parchment could grow up to ten feet in length.

Before class he would pick one spell, potion or general theory which he figured would help in his fight and read up on it in depth. The problem was that while there were plenty of advanced books on the main subjects, others like Ancient Runes only skimmed over the most basic of theory. It didn't even go over how to cast spells in Runes. It appeared as though they were trying to get people to believe the only way to spellcast was though the use of wands. Which actually wouldn't be that surprising really, given the Ministry's view of most things. The important information was either in the restricted section, or far more likely, in the teachers' personal library. Harry shuddered to think what his Hermione would have done to learn that the Professors purposefully kept information hidden from students. She'd probably have died.

With this line of thinking in mind Harry looked at his watch, and seeing that most of the teachers would be down at breakfast he marked the page he had been reading and hurriedly got dressed.

Walking into the Great Hall he saw that there were very few students up at this hour, for which he was thankful as he didn't want to do this in front of a large number of students.

It figured that the only teacher that wasn't there would be Professor Astray, hell even Trelawney was there! And he didn't remember seeing her until his third year the First Time. Of course, he had had his head shoved so far up his and Ron's arses that he barely noticed Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan, and Dean Thomas let alone some teacher he didn't know.

When Astray finally did appear the Hall was nearly full but, giving a resigned sigh, he made his way determinedly up to where the Professor was sitting, after she'd had her first two cups of coffee of course, no point in talking to a near zombie, after all.

"Professor Astray?" Harry's voice sounded hesitant, even to him.

"Oh, hello Harry, what do you need?" Astray asked peering blurredly at him.

"I know it's rather unusual." Harry said, his voice quiet but he knew every staff member was listening to him. "But...I was wondering if I might ask for lessons in Ancient Runes."

"Lessons? But you're not a third year." Professor Astray said blinking at him her brow furrowed in a frown.

"Yes I realize that, however, its the only subject that I can't read up on in the library and learn on my own. Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense. I can look up those until I reach after NEWTs but I haven't found anything but basic Runes." Harry said softly. "In all my other subjects I've learned the entire first year book, I've even done most of the spells in a empty classroom and they seem to work fine. Because of that I moved on to more advanced spells and charms but it's really just as easy as the first year stuff was."

"So you want something to hold your attention." Professor Astray stated smiling at him. "Well I'd really love to, Harry, but Runes is only for third years and up. That's a Ministry Rule you know. You'll have to get signed permission from all of your professors stating that you're not having any problems in class and that taking on extra work will not hinder you in any way. If you get them _all_ to sign the form you have to take it to the Headmaster and get permission from him."

"Is it a special form or can I just have all the professors sign a sheet of parchment?"

"Are you so sure that they'll sign it?"

"The only person I might have problems with is Professor Snape and that's only because he's rather hostile towards me. I do _excellent_ work in his class, however."

Professor Astray blinked as the boy walked away then shrugged. He'd either get permission or he wouldn't. It wasn't any of her business until he did. She had a feeling, however, that it didn't matter if he got permission or not. He'd find a way to learn what he wanted and no one and nothing would stop him. Especially not the Ministry Flunkies who made most of the asinine rules they had to abide by. _Standing __in his way might make it fun for him, actually,_ Emilia thought as she glanced at Snape, who had the ugliest look on his face that she had ever seen. _Way to go Snape. Just push him. Any moron can _feel _the power in that boy. It radiates from him like heat. You just push him, give him a reason to take you apart. I'm sure he'll be happy to oblige._

Harry made his way to the Common Room to pick up his Rune Book. He had to be at the hospital after nine but before ten to get a physical on Pomfrey's orders. She wanted to make sure he healed right and there were no lingering effects, or maybe she wanted to make sure Harry was dealing well with the 'trauma'. Either way he knew if he didn't go to the infirmary by the stated time Pomfrey would go on a war hunt until she found him.

Then he'd pay.

Seeing as how it was nearly nine he made his way there. When he got to the infirmary Harry saw that Pomfrey was with a patient, so he stood back while she got it over with. _Seamus_, Harry stared at the boy. He remembered why Seamus was in Poppy Pomfrey's domain so early in the year. _Water to rum._ When Pomfrey was done with the boy Harry grabbed his arm as he was walking passed. "This'll take about ten minutes." Harry said nodding to the nurse. "If you're willing to wait I'll show you how to change water into all kinds of..._interesting_ things." Harry said with a wink. The First Time it had taken Seamus five years of work to out how to change water to rum because no one would explain to him what he needed to make it work. Those in the know would never teach a person to make an alcoholic beverage.

"Mr. Potter, you seem to be doing well." Pomfrey said five minutes later. "How do you feel?"

"There's a little lingering soreness." Harry said with a shrug. "I was a little tired the first two days of class but other than that I felt good."

"Any nightmares?"

"Well yes but I've always had nightmares." Harry said with a shrug.

"How often do you have them?"

"About twice a week usually. I had one of Monday, Tuesday and another last night."

"Are the nightmares strong enough that you wake up?"

"Yes but on Tuesday and last night I was able to go back to sleep." Harry said. "Monday was pretty bad but I didn't have the nightmare until real early or late, I guess. I woke up at a few minutes before six which is when I get up anyways. I don't know if I would've been able to get back to sleep or not. But I suspect not."

"All right then. If you have any problems sleeping I want you to come to me. Missing sleep is a _very_ bad thing for anyone but especially for growing boys. Speaking of growing, you're rather small for your size, as you've probably noticed. To fix what those monsters did to you I want you to take this potion before you eat any meal," Pomfrey gave him a blood-red potion that had flecks of silver in it. Harry knew what it was immediately as he'd prepared it often enough during the war. It was a nutrition potion that gave the drinker _all_ the nutrients they needed for a day based on a highly active lifestyle. It was kind of like a muggle multivitamin meals in a bottle type things only much better. "And I want you to drink this potion when you go to bed at night and when you wake up in the morning." She handed him a ruby, frothy potion the consistency of water, when Harry took it away from Pomfrey he saw that it flashed purple randomly. "The potions will appear in your nightstand every morning and one will appear next to your plate at meals so you don't need to come down to receive them."

"All right, you've got me on this one. What is it?" He asked the nurse looking up at her from the ruby potion.

"You know what the other potion is?"

"A nutrition potion." Harry said and immediately backtracked and did some fast thinking. "You gave me one during my stay here and I looked it up when I got to the library."

"Oh. I wouldn't expect a student to go to so much trouble."

"I've been really bored in classes." Harry said with a shrug.

She gave him a queer look but didn't comment. "This is a potion that will strengthen your bones and suggest to your body to build up muscles faster. It will, if you take it like you're supposed to, allow you to experience a growth spurt before Winter Break." Pomfrey gave him a stern look and put her hands on her hips. "Now I'm going to give you the benefit of doubt. You seem like an intelligent, responsible boy so I'm not going to require you to be here every weekend. I'll give you three weeks. The 21st, all right? If I find you haven't followed my instructions to a T I will have you in here every day after classes until I'm sure you have caught up with your peers and that might take _several_ years."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry said. Her face softened into a smile as she shooed him off.

"All right, Potter, I waited." Seamus said as soon as he stepped outside the door. Harry waved him to follow.

"First, it's Harry. Second I heard a rumor that you've been trying to turn water to rum. Is that true?"

"Yeah. So far all it's done is explode in my face." Seamus said and looked at him intently. "I know Granger could help me but when I asked she told me if I ever tried again she'd report me to McGonagall."

"Oh I wouldn't worry too much about McGonagall." Harry said. "She'd take five points from you then give you ten if you managed it. It's a tricky bit of transfiguration, really, with a bit of Charms thrown in for good measure." Harry stopped at a class and looked in. It was free of students, you had to be careful when stepping into an empty classroom because if you interrupted older students snogging they got pretty huffy with you. He waved the sandy-haired boy in and waved his wand creating a privacy ward after shutting the door. "All right, here's what you do...oh wait, don't tell Hermione who you learned it from."

"Why not?" Seamus looked suspiciously at him. He might not have been friends with the girl personally but House pride won out against anything else. Someone inside the House insulting the girl for being a bossy little know-it-all was fine – so long as she didn't hear – someone outside the House doing it was grounds for a fight.

"Oh, not for the reasons you're thinking." Harry said. "It's just me and her have a kind of rivalry going. She's jealous because I'm better than her at Transfiguration so she keeps trying to out do me. I just don't want her to know exactly how much farther I am than her. She seems to have an unhealthy interest in books." Harry really just didn't want to push Hermione. She'd always been the best and she hated it that Harry was better than her. He was afraid, really, that if she got deep into her studies – without him there to distract her – that she'd become sick.

"Oh...well all right then." Seamus said.

"Good, here's what you do..."

Thirty minutes later Harry was drinking the rum Seamus had created. "Now you know this won't get you drunk, right?"

"Yeah, I read something about that."

"It's the properties of alcohol. Changing water to real rum is something a normal first year can't manage. Hell normal sixth years can't manage it. Doing the favor is easy, relatively, I mean. But changing not only the taste but the properties of the liquid completely is much, much harder."

"Do you know how?" Seamus asked, giving Harry a shrew look.

"No." Harry said, shaking his head. "I'm sure I could learn but I've never tried. Well, I mean never in the week I've had my wand."

Seamus laughed. "That's fine, I just wanted the taste of home anyways. Being hungover while going to class isn't something I want. Being drunk while eleven isn't something I want either."

Harry laughed. "Well, when you want some help with the alcoholic part just come ask. I'll look it up for you."

Seamus nodded. "Wait, Harry." Seamus stopped him.

"Yeah?"

"Why-er why do you snub people?"

"Snub? What?"

"It's just that...everyone who's tried to talk to you you've blown off. We all think you're a snob."

Harry laughed. "I don't want to talk to people who start the conversation with 'Do you remember what Voldemort looked like?' or 'Do you remember anything from that night?' It's not something I want to think about and I'm not going to talk about." Harry said with a shrug. "I'm Harry Potter but that doesn't give people the right to invade my privacy. And I definitely don't want to talk about the night I lost my family."

"Oh." Seamus said and shifted uncomfortably. "Then...er...I'll see you around."

Harry nodded and took down the spells he put around the room.

Harry made his way back to the Ravenclaw Common Room, giving the answer to the Riddle he was asked (What falls but never breaks? What breaks but never falls? Night and Day.) Then set up camp at one of the tables to finish what homework he still had which was just the work he'd gotten from class yesterday, History, Transfiguration, and Astronomy. He started his History first as that was the easiest, "Tell About the Life and Times of Paracelsus." Harry glared at the book when he'd looked up Paracelsus. He now knew why Hermione had that book on Alchemy for a 'bit of light reading' back in first year. Paracelsus was Nicolas Flamel's student. If Harry could come across that information why hadn't Hermione? The books were different but surely her book said something about who taught Paracelsus Hermione, who habitually wrote three and four extra _feet_ on their essays, didn't know that these two people had a mentor-student relationship. And Harry knew the Gryffindors had this same essay because they were in the same class. If Hermione didn't write facts like this in her essays what _did_ she write? Harry had never read one of her essays because she was always afraid they'd copy them. _Hmmm, the mysteries of the world._

Harry then moved on to his Transfiguration homework which for everyone but Harry and Hermione was "Write down and describe the process of changing a matchstick into a needle in your own words." Harry and Hermione, however, had to explain the process of changing wood to metal plus the regular class work because they were the only two to get the change to happen in the second class. Thankfully the Astronomy homework was just making a chart of Cancer and labeling all the major stars and the star groups.

"Are you already done with your homework?" Padma Patil asked when he closed up the last essay.

"Yes, for the week. Why?"

"Because I'm not. How did you do the Herbology homework? The Greenhouses have been closed today."

"I did them yesterday during our free."

"But your partner!"

"We share free with Hufflepuff on Fridays."

"Oh...I didn't know that. I thought you working outside the House would only hurt both of you."

"I generally know what I'm doing, Padma." Harry said.

"I'm sorry I ever doubted you." Padma grinned.

Sunday was spent exercising in the Room of Requirement and running around the lake – which he decided to start doing every morning from then on – and that night meditating. Harry went to sleep that night hoping he'd get enough time to ask for permission to take Runes in each of the classes he had that week. He wondered what he'd have to do to get Snape to agree. Old Bat that he was he he would refuse just to spite James Potter. Harry had never gotten to like the bastard but he'd be the first to admit that Snape knew what he was doing in Potions, even if it pained him to do so. Harry went to sleep that night after practicing his Occlumency.

* * *

As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.

Added: May 10, 2008


	3. Chapter 8 The Trouble with Magic Is

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** (tentatively) Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon; hpfandom(dot)net under pyrodaemon

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** So I've gotten pretty good feedback on the friend situation and I've pretty much made up my mind (it was surprisingly what I wanted to do anyways). Now I've got another question: **I plan on having Harry live with Tom and his wife at the Leaky Cauldron. Any thoughts on that?**

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

**The Trouble with Magic Is**

Harry woke on Monday morning at his regular time and went about his morning routine which now included running around the lake for an hour. He went back to his dorm where he took a quick shower and dried himself then used his hair Rune to make it lay flat so he could comb it. He used a mouth cleaning spell on himself – toothpaste tasted awful with anything other than water and he still had to eat – and dressed, grabbing his pointed hat on the way out.

He got to the Common Room just as Padma and decided to walk with her and discuss the Transfiguration homework that was due that day. "Personally I think we should be taught things that _matter_." Padma said sitting down at their table in the Great Hall. "Who _cares_ if we can turn a matchstick in a needle? Are we ever going to really use that?"

"Probably not." Harry said with a shrug. "But that's not why we do it."

"Then why do we do it, Oh Great and Wonderful Oz." Lisa Turpin asked as she sat down with a grin.

"We do it because it builds us up to the more complicated magics. Turning a matchstick into a needle is easy because they're both about the same shape and size. The needle's denser but the matchstick has all that extra stuff, like sulfur and more mass so it's easier to get it to go into it's new shape. Next year if I remember what I read correctly, we'll be changing beetles into buttons. Why?"

"Because they're about the same size? And shape?" Lisa guessed.

"Right. And because they both have five letters, both start with _B_ and they sound relatively the same. Beetle. Button. See? It also gives us good practice of changing an Animate to Inanimate. Granted Inanimate to Animate is much harder because you have all those guts and things but everything builds up. You wanna be good at the later stuff you get this down and you will be. Or at least it'll be easier."

"Well look at you Mister-I'm-So-Good-At-Magic!" Padma said laughing while Harry blushed lightly. "Someone should give you an award."

"We better get to class." Padma said after five minutes. "I like to be there early to get the best seats."

"All right." Harry said as he finished off the rest of his tea. "Su, you coming?"

The girl in question looked up from her second year friends and then at the large clock at the front of the room before nodding as she said her goodbyes. "Does anyone know what potion we'll be making today?" Padma asked.

"A Peace Draught." Su said grinning. "It's relatively easy and there are few ingredients. But if you don't remove it from the fire before you add the billywig stingers it'll react with the dittany and you'll create nothing more than a mess."

Harry nodded to show he agreed and mentally went over the procedure for the Peace Draught, which was a basic potion whose strength depended on, surprisingly enough, how fresh the winter aconite flowers were. Seeing as the flowers bloomed early January – where snow was light but never here in Northern Scotland – and died during late spring, the freshness was in question, but should make a mildly strong Peace Draught. Unless Snape hadn't ordered fresh aconite last spring then the Peace Draught _might_ be strong enough to calm a crying male. Generally this potion was used to calm children, though Hogwarts used a lot of it during September and October and again just after Winter Holidays to calm homesick students. _Let's see,__ if I change out the fluxweed for wormseed I can counteract the freshness, or lack of freshness, from the aconite. That way we'll have a Draught strong enough to calm a hysterical OWL student. And changing out the pennycress for sweatroot will add about six months onto the shelf-life so it'll still be good for when those OWL and NEWT jitters come around. Not that I'm actually going to switch out ingredients. No need to give Snape more ammunition than he already has._

"IN!" Snape snapped as he thrust open the door. Harry strolled in calmly while the rest scurried in like frightened mice. Su would hold their table for him, he knew, and he had a point to prove. He wasn't scared of Snape, he knew the man's weaknesses and he wasn't going to put up with his filth without giving some back. They might have been able to work with each other during the war but they'd never gotten along. It was more of a 'you shut up and I will and there will be no need for the curses to fly' situation. Snape's stare was on his back and if Snape had been more powerful Harry might have burst into flames. "Now that _Mr. Potter_ has seen fit to grace us with his presence, let's get started."

Harry knew they would be making this potion alone so went up last to get his supplies. He made a perfect potion which made Snape twitch and asked the man to sign the form to take Runes. "I shouldn't, you know. Your arrogance will only grow if I do."

"Its not arrogance or boasting when it's true, _sir_." Harry said, looking calmly at the man. Snape's snide comments weren't going to get under his skin this time. He wouldn't allow it. Snape's jaw tightened before a nasty smirk tugged at his lips.

"No...no I don't think I will." Snape said. "You may leave."

Harry eyes narrowed but he didn't say anything as he left. He stormed through the halls to McGonagall's classroom and dropped his bag as he sat between Hermione and Neville. "'Lo Neville. Hermione."

"Potter." Hermione said, her voice distant as she gave him a regal nod.

"H-hello H-h-Harry." Neville said looking down at the desk, his face turning red.

"Are you enjoying Hogwarts?" Harry asked as he glanced at the board where McGonagall was writing the notes.

He quickly copied them down and made a copy for the shy boy while Neville said, "I-I." Neville took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I am."

Harry quickly put up a barrier so that sound reached their table but they wouldn't disturb their classmates. "All right, Neville, I can't stand this anymore. I refuse to see talent like yours wasted." Harry said as he remember everything that had happened the First Time. Neville had been powerful, magically, but he'd hadn't found that strength until it was too late.

"I-I haven't got talent." Neville mumbled. "Malfoy says I'm a Squib and he's right."

"That's rubbish, Longbottom. Malfoy's a parasite who hides in his father's shadow and will never accomplished anything of his own. He's jealous because you have such a strong potential for magic and he doesn't." Harry stared at the boy for a second before narrowing his eyes. "Tell me this. When is the first time you did _real_ accidental magic?"

"New Years last year. My Uncle dropped me out the third story window."

"Have you ever been sick? Really injured? Are you good with anything? Like plants or animals or memorizing things?"

"I've never been sick, not even a stuffed nose, the worst injury I've ever suffered was when I stubbed my toe and it took a hour for the bruise to disappear and I am--my Uncle on my Mum's side says that I have the most natural gift with plants he's ever seen."

Harry nodded. "As I thought." He sighed and tapped a hand against the table. "Neville some people don't do a lot of accidental magic because they have no need for it or because they have a lot of control over themselves. I don't know what's wrong with your relatives or why they've convince you that your worthless – no don't. You don't have to defend them and I won't hear you doing so. There's something _wrong_ with people who'll do that to a child. You magic didn't manifest itself because it didn't need to. You were fed, you had a roof over your head and you didn't need anything more than what you had. So it made sure that no matter what happened to you you didn't get sick, injured or anything of the sort. It also developed into something you like. Gardening, I take it?"

"I love gardening." Neville said quietly.

"I'm sure you do. So your magic developed in that direction. What you need, Neville, is more self confidence." Harry said with a nod. "So that's what your going to get."

"You shouldn't waste your-"

"I've never wasted my time in my life. I have too much to do for that. So you buck down and do as I say." Harry said. "First thing you have to know about wandwork is how to hold your wand." Harry spent the next three minutes teaching the boy how to hold his wand so his moves could flow into each other and not become jerky when he had to go from a right swish to a left flick. "Good, now you have to know that Transfiguration is _much_ easier than people make it out to be, at least early on. Everything is visualization at this level. If you can't picture a needle, you'll never be able to change the matchstick into it." Harry took the matchstick at the end of the desk and changed it to a needle. "This is a needle. Take it and learn it. You have a minute."

Harry let the boy stare at the needle for a minute before taking it and sitting it on the desk. "Good now the wand movements are thus," Harry swished his wand and tapped the matchstick three times, which wasn't really necessarily when you mastered the spell but was good for beginners. "And then you say _lamnia_." Harry said.

Neville did it and did it and did it again. "Whoa Neville, calm down this isn't a race. For one your pushing _far_ too much magic through your wand." Harry didn't mention that the wand itself was ill suited to Neville. Harry would have to talk to McGonagall about that. "For two, if you try to force magic to do what you want it will fight you."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not saying magic can reason but it does...react. Magic is older than you or I can even imagine. What right do we have to tell it what to do?"

"None?"

"That's right, none. So suggest to the magic that _it_ might want to change a matchstick into a needle and it will." Harry said. "So relax, take a deep breath, let it out, then take another until you feel yourself relax." Harry sat there while Neville did as he was told. "Good, now keeping your eyes closed and do as I showed you." Harry watched Neville's magic, watched as it struggled to get to the surface and out through his wand. "Do it again." Harry couldn't believe what he was seeing.

Someone had blocked Neville's magic _purposefully_. That was a great deal different than the Killing Curse -- or any over spell -- blocking a person's magic. That was the one spell that was illegal in _every_ country, even the one's that secretly allowed the darkest of dark arts to be practiced made it illegal to block or take any person's magic. It was an automatic death sentence for anyone caught doing so. _Good-bye Lestranges, your going down sooner than I expected._

Harry shook himself out of his thought and concentrated back on Neville. He nodded when the matchstick finally changed. "Good, good. Now do it again until you can do it on the first try. Then I want you to reverse the transformation." Harry said.

"Why reverse it?" Neville asked.

"It's good practice and knowing how to undo a bit of magic is the only way to truly master a spell. When you can do it ten times in a row and undo it, you'll have the spell mastered." Of course to truly master a spell it took more than that but for school work that was good enough. "If you go back and do this spell ever so often later magic will work better for you. Just remember to stay calm and focused."

At the end of the lesson Harry went up to McGonagall and asked for permission to get tutored in Ancient Runes. Of course he got his permission, but was told in a _very_ stern tone that if his grades started dropping the extra tutoring would stop _immediately_. He agreed and waved goodbye.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Harry bit his lip as he stared down at the parchment in front of him. He knew what he had to say but how to say it was the question. If he sounded too knowledgeable then Dumbledore would go looking for him, but if he wasn't knowledgeable enough Dumbledore might ignore him.

_Albus Dumbledore,_

_I believe at your school you have a first year named Neville Longbottom. It is my understanding, through information I have recently received, that the boy has had his magic blocked by parties unknown. The longer you let this situation go unchecked the more damage to the boy's magic there will be. For suspects look to the three Lestranges, Couch Jr., the Carrow's, or Thorfinn Rowle. _

_Your Faithful Servant,_

_Blue_

Harry bit his lip as he re-read the missive. Nothing in it gave away any information on him, or rather 'Blue', but it did get his point across. _Then again the old man is a sly old bastard and will probably know my age, name, and birthday before I even know what's going on,_ Harry thought. Of course Dumbledore didn't know everything, just look at everything that happened last time, but he was smart and he knew a great deal more than Harry or anyone else Harry had ever known.

Harry closed the letter, sealed it using blue wax and an old ring he'd found in the Room of Requirements. He quietly made his way through Hogwarts before leaving it using the Honeydukes Sweetshop secret exit. He'd thought at first of using the Owl Post in Hogsmeade but knew that it was too close, that Dumbledore could find out where the owl came from then it would be the end of him. He was probably just being paranoid but better safe then sorry. So Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley and charmed himself to look like a six year old. He clutched the letter tightly in his hand, like a nervous six year old would, and tentatively made his way to the counter of the Post office. "Why hello there, little one, what are you doing here alone?"

"My daddy says I'm big and can send a letter all on my own!" His high-pitched voice enough to cause the woman's lips to twitch.

"Why, you sure look big enough to me." The woman smiled brightly down to him. "Where are you sending a letter to?"

"Albus Dumbly-dore!" Harry said with a bright smile before he leaned closer and whispered. "My brother played a prank and Daddy wants Dumbly-dore to know that he can give him all the attention he wants to because he shouldn't do stuff like that."

"I see." the woman smiled and took the letter. "Well make sure he gets this by tomorrow morning."

"Thank you miss Post Office Lady ma'am!" Harry said before putting the money on the table and racing out. Harry quickly made his way back to Hogsmeade, then to Honeydukes and down to the cellar when no one was looking. He slipped back into Hogwarts without anyone the wiser and saw that he even still had time to grab a bite to eat before going to the library to study.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Albus Dumbledore sat at his desk and re-read the letter he'd just received. It held disturbing news but unblocking magic was dangerous. The only person he knew who'd try to block the young Longbottom's magic was those monsters who'd attacked the Longbottoms after the Downfall of Voldemort. And the only one capable of doing so was Rabastan Lestrange. Neither his older brother or sister-in-law had the patience or fitness to do so. The others the letter mentioned weren't really worth looking at, not without proof, but Thorfinn Rowle hadn't even been on his list of suspected Death Eaters.

"Albus? You called for me?" Minerva McGonagall asked as she sat down before his desk. "Is there a problem? The Ministry making new decrees?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. This has to do with one of your lions." The change in Minerva's posture was rather remarkable. He always loved seeing Minerva's ferocious defense of her cubs. "I believe you have a first year named Neville Longbottom?"

"Yes, Albus, he should be at breakfast."

"Has the boy had any problems in class?"

"Yes, I don't understand it either because the boy is powerful. In the first years he's in the top ten. Confidence is a powerful thing but a lack of it shouldn't hurt him this much."

Albus sighed deeply. "I see. I just received a letter from a person or persons unknown who claim to believe the boy's magic is blocked."

"The Lestranges?" Minerva asked, her eyes spitting fire. They both knew how much Minerva had wanted to go to the Ministry and rip the Lestranges to pieces and transform them into something nasty. The Longbottoms with the Potters had been her favorite students and she lost them both with two weeks of each other.

"That's my guess."

"I-wait you got this information from a _letter_? From who?"

"I don't know. It's merely signed Blue."

"Blue?! What kind of name is blue?"

"I don't know. It could be the color of their eyes or perhaps random. I'm going to contact Augusta and get her permission to bring the boy to St. Mungo's."

"Poppy's capable-"

"Yes I know. But I don't want rumors to start about the boy." Albus said.

"I...yes I suppose that's best. Poor Neville wouldn't know what to do being the center of attention." Minerva said with a nod. "Do you want me to get the boy now?"

"No. There's no need if Augusta doesn't agree."

"What's not to agree with? The boy's magic is blocked, it needs to be unblocked."

"The process of unblocking a person's magic is a difficult and dangerous thing. The boy could end up being a Squib."

Minerva froze and stared at him for a moment. "I didn't know it was such a hazardous procedure." She said with a frown.

"Quite." Albus said as he threw some powder in the fireplace. "Longbottom Estate." He cried and stuck his head in the flames when they turned green. "Augusta, are you there?"

"Albus? Has something happened to Neville? He hasn't done anything foolish, has he?"

"No, no nothing like that. Would you mind coming to Hogwarts for a while? There is a problem we have to discuss."

"Very well." Augusta said with a nod. "I'll be through in ten. I have to cancel my plans for the day."

Albus pulled his head back through the flames, pausing for a moment as his stomach turned, before standing up when he was sure he wouldn't do anything preposterous like falling over, as he'd done so often in his youth. He sat back down at his desk and called for a house-elf. "Tea for four, please."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Headmaster Dumbly-dore, sir!" The house-elf bobbed a curtsy, the only way Albus knew to tell it was a girl – he'd never quite got the hang of telling male and female elves apart.

"Ah, good, Augusta." Albus said up and waved her into a chair before his desk and retook his own seat. "I understand that your grandson has problems with his magic. You must have noticed."

"We thought the boy a Squib until last year."

"There's a reason for that. His magic has been blocked. I believe-"

"The Lestranges." Augusta hissed, her cheeks turning red and her eyes flashing. "It was enough that they destroyed my boy! They had to destroy my grandson as well?!"

"He's not destroyed, Augusta." Minerva snapped. "His magic can be unblocked."

"And at what cost? Destroying what little magic he has at his disposal? You're asking me to chance making my grandson, the only one left to carry out the Longbottom name, into a _SQUIB_?!"

"Its not like that, Augusta. I understand." Minerva said placing a hand on the arm of her old dorm mate.

"Oh what could you possible know, Minerva? Are you the one who has to see her son laying in a hospital bed year after year? Knowing he doesn't recognize you or his own son? Knowing that he'll never get better? Never be the man you knew he was going to be? And now you want me to risk his son? The only thing I have left of him?"

Minerva couldn't think of anything to say that would put her friend at ease, so fell silent and let her hand fall to her side. "I'm sorry, Augusta." Minerva said as a flash of the boy Frank Longbottom had been. He'd always been so happy. He'd been dorm mates with James Potter but hadn't exactly been friends with James' group until their sixth year. He'd been such a serious but happy boy.

"Augusta, if you let this block stay on Neville it will only grew stronger and stronger, year after year until the boy is a Squib. Right now having his magic blocked effects his _entire_ life. His physical body is just as effected as his magic. You have no choice either way."

Augusta's eyes closed and a pained looked crossed her face. "Very well. Bring the boy here and we'll go to St. Mungo's." She shook her head. "I hope Neville will have the chance to become the man his father could've been."

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

The next day at breakfast Harry saw McGonagall quickly walk to the Gryffindor table and lead Neville Longbottom from the Great Hall. He smiled mentally. Harry went back to his eggs and his book. _Maybe Neville will be the man I knew sooner rather than later._

* * *

**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

Added: May 20, 2008


	4. Chapter 9: Perfect Peaceful Potions

******Title:**** A New Chance Continued**

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** (tentatively) Harry Potter/Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon; hpfandom(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I am _so_ sorry for the delay in this chapter. I've had it written for ages and was going to post it when a huge storm hit Ohio that lasted for days. If you've read my profile you know that I practically live on the Ohio River, I'm about half a mile away from it, and I live in a valley. What that means, exactly is every time we get a lot of rain it floods. It was so bad this time that my mailbox, which stands at five feet high – to protect it from floods – was completely covered. Anyway the point of the story is that my power was out for six days and we just got Internet back up last night around 2:45 according to my mom. Once again I'm really, really sorry about the delays.

**Chapter Nine**

**Perfect Peaceful Potions **

By Wednesday morning Harry had permission from every one of his professors except for Snape and Binns, who he'd hit up later that day, and Sinistra, who he couldn't speak to until Friday.

Harry raced down to Potions class to catch up with his House. He hadn't meant to be so late but after breakfast Harry had sat down to read his Runes book. When he glanced up at the clock it was ten after ten and which meant he had five minutes to get to class. If he was late there was no way he could get Snape to sign and get extra tutoring from Astray. He was lucky, though, and made it with a minute to spare. So, panting, he dropped into his regular place in the line, next to Su, and leaned against the wall to catch his breath. The door opened and started what seemed to become the routine for potions: Snape would snarl 'In!', all the students but Harry would scurry in like terrified little mice, take their seats, and get lectured on hiding their stupidity for the next two hours.

Harry saw that Snape had put a mild Cheering potion on the board, but before he could get up to get the ingredients a sheet of parchment appeared on his desk.

_Potter_

_You're to make this potion for the Hospital_

_Wing. There needs to be at least eight phials. I _

_prefer more._

_SS_

_Curt and abrupt, just like nasty old Snape,_ Harry thought before standing up to get the ingredients for the Pepper-up Potion. He knew it was still just the beginning of Autumn, but there was already a slight bite to the air at night, and the Cold and Flu Season would be on them before they knew it. Pepper-up was vital to the survival of the students of Hogwarts. It was also a fourth year potion. He set up two cauldrons and got started. _So much for my thought of not showing my true potential. Fly under the radar, I thought, don't show them what you can do, Harry. Brilliant, Harry. You never could resist showing off. Stupid Snape. Just because I want extra lessons doesn't mean I can make a fourth year potion._

Harry meticulously cut and ground ingredients while adding them to the two cauldrons. He'd been careful to space out the two cauldrons so he wasn't rushed and he'd get at least twenty-three phials out of this. _Wonder if I'll get extra credit? Ha! Not._

"Time. Clean up your stations." Snape's voice rang out. "For those of you too stupid to prepare your potions correctly, I want two feet in what you did wrong and the correct procedure by Friday. Those of you who made your potion correctly, congratulations, you've show that, for at least today, you have the brains given to a monkey. You have a foot on correct procedure."

Harry only had thirty more stirs to do before he was done on the last cauldron and so ignored everyone else. "Professor Snape, Potter's not stopped!" Ernie Macmillan whined.

"Potter is doing something else for me Macmillan. Ten points from Hufflepuff for being insufferable. You are dismissed."

Harry finished stirring the potion as the last student filed out. _Ernie always was a pompous arse,_ he thought without humor. He took the phials that Snape had sat on the table next to them and labeled them with the time, date, moon phase and the name of the potion. At the bottom of each glass he put his Rune – the Sowilo – and filled the single serving vials with the Pepper-up.

"It's acceptable." Snape said. "Full credit and," Snape swallowed noisily. "Ten points to Ravenclaw." Harry could almost see the pain that caused Snape.

"Thank you, Professor." Harry said as he finished capping the last vial. "Professor, would you mind signing the permission form to allow me to take extra Rune lessons from Professor Astray?"

A piece of parchment appeared on his desk. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Out!"

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

By Friday all of Harry's professors had signed the form for him, and Harry couldn't have been happier. He was finally going to start learning something new.

Harry was practically skipping as he made his way to Headmaster's office. "Bugger." He said as he stared at the gargoyle guarding the old man's sanctuary. He didn't know the password and he couldn't just stand there and guess. Granted the old man usually used a sweet but occasionally he used some obscure spell that no one had even heard of let alone used in the last two hundred years. He frowned at the gargoyle before smiling. "I don't suppose you could tell the Headmaster that I'm here if he's not busy. Or even tell me if he's in?"

Not ten seconds later the gargoyle jumped aside and the stairs started moving. He raced up them and slid into the Headmaster's office. "Mr. Potter." Dumbledore said. Harry blushed as he saw that Dumbledore wasn't alone. The four Heads of House were there and they all stared at him.

"Er...sorry Professors. I didn't know you were here and the gargoyle let me up."

"I told it to." Dumbledore said with a nod.

"Does it have a name?" Harry asked suddenly. He didn't know and it had never occurred to him to ask before.

"No." Dumbledore said smiling. "I don't believe that anyone has ever thought of naming it."

"Then I'll call him Bob." Harry said with a nod. "I er...I'll wait out-"

"Nonsense, Harry, my door is always open to my students." Dumbledore said. "Am I to assume that you have collected the needed signatures to take on tutoring with Professor Astray?"

"Yes, sir, I have." Harry nodded and pulled out all seven forms, laying them on the elderly man's desk.

"And you feel confident that starting this new class will not hurt your other academic conquests?" Harry had always loved how Dumbledore made learning sound like some kind of battle.

"Yes, sir, I do. I'm completely sure that I can still be Top of the Year and still do this class."

"Good, good. Then I give you official permission to take Runes with Professor Astray as long as you stay _ahead_ in your classes and as long as it doesn't take time away from your previous commitments." Dumbledore said as he signed a roll of parchment and held it out for Harry to take. "Just give this to Professor Astray."

"Thank you, Headmaster, you won't regret this!" Harry said and turned to leave the room, throwing over his shoulder as he got to the door, "Have a nice morning Professors!"

Harry knew that Astray wouldn't be down until breakfast was nearly over. He'd noticed that about the professor during the week and it always made him chuckle. When she did appeared in the Great Hall he immediately stood up and cut her off. "Hello, Professor."

She grunted and went around him, making her way for the Head Table. Harry followed her, helping her drop into her chair – if he hadn't she would've fallen to the ground – and poured her a cup of strong coffee. "Hmmm." The woman said as she inhaled the scent of the coffee before drinking the cup. Harry poured another cup for her which she downed it just as quickly. She was on her fifth cup before she seemed to become aware of her surroundings. "Hello, Harry, what are you doing here?"

"Serving you coffee, apparently," Harry said with a rare smile. "Oh, you mean what am I doing at the Head Table. That's easy. I've received permission to partake in a Rune class with you."

"Really? That's great! When are you free?"

"Monday and Friday last period and Wednesday first period. And every weekend, of course."

"I have Friday last period free. And weekends. I'd give you Wednesdays as well but that's when I grade my essays and worksheets."

"I could help with that." Harry said suddenly. "It'd be good practice and I wouldn't really have to know what was going on as long as you gave me the answers."

Professor Astray studied him for a moment before nodding. "Come by my office tomorrow and we'll see how good you are. After that we'll see where we go."

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Sunday morning Harry did his morning routine, ate breakfast then made his way to the Library until after lunch when Astray had told him she'd be available for his first lesson. "All right, Potter, let's go." Astray said as she paused behind him. They moved through the school to the seventh floor near the Gryffindor Common Room. "You seem to know where we are."

"I know a lot about the school." Harry said. "I've explored it. The Gryffindor Common Room is near here."

"How do you know that?"

"Because all the Gryffindors go right up there," He pointed to the picture of the Pink Lady which was on a five step rise off the corridor. "So that's probably their Common Room or a way to their Common Room."

"I can neither confirm nor deny that." Astray said smiling as they sat down in her office.

"All right. The Elder Futhark is the oldest form of the runic alphabet, used by Germanic tribes from 2nd to 8th centuries for inscriptions on jewelery, amulets, tools, weapons and rune stones. Of course wizards and witches use Runes for everything from spellcasting, which isn't very common as it takes a great deal of discipline, to creating wards and fire and flood proofing. In Scandinavia, the script was simplified to the Younger Futhark from the late 8th century, while the Anglo-Saxons and Frisians extended the Futhark which eventually became the Anglo-Saxon Futhorc after Proto-English /a/ developed to /o/ in nasal environments. Unlike the Younger Futhark which remained in use until modern times, the knowledge of how to read the Elder Futhark was forgotten in Muggle Society, and it was not until 1865 that the Norwegian scholar Sophus Bugge, who was a Squib, managed to 'decipher' it."

"So this Squib went out into Muggle Society and used Wizarding information to make himself famous?" Harry asked with a quirk of his lips to show his amusement.

"That's about the sum of it." Astray said with a nod. "You do know that most of what the Muggle Society 'discoveries' are just what Wizards let go, right?"

"Er...it is?"

"Yes." Astray said with a nod. "Archimedes, Democritus, Hippocrates, Socrates, Plato, Aristotle, Archimedes, Karl Marx, Adam Smith, Albert Einstein, Charles Darwin, Enrico Fermi, Friedrich Nietzsche, Immanuel Kant and Ludwig Wittgenstein just to name a few. All were Squibs who took Magical Ideas and brought them to the Muggle Society. All of them are famous, most of them are seen as the Forefather of their fields. But none of that matters right now because we're discussing the Elder Futhark.

"The Elder Futhark is named after the initial phoneme of the first six rune names: **F**, **U**, **Th**, **A**, **R** and **K** and consist of twenty-four runes, often arranged in three groups of eight runes. The groups are known as _aett_. The runes have corresponding letters in the English alphabet, but we'll get there later. The Elder Futhark runes are commonly believed to originate in the Old Italic alphabets: either a North Italic variant or the Latin alphabet itself. It was once believed, even by Wizards, that the Elder Futhark could have derived from the Greek alphabet via Gothic contact to Byzantine Greek culture. It was a very popular opinion in the 19th century, but has been ruled out since the dating of the Vimose inscriptions to the 2nd century while the Goths had been in contact with Greek culture only from the early 3rd century. Conversely, the Greek-derived 4th century Gothic alphabet does have two letters derived from runes: **Jera** and **Uruz**. Any questions so far?"

"Yes. Why did Wizards think the Elder Futhark derived from the Greek alphabet if we never 'lost' it? Shouldn't we know about where it came from?"

"Because, sadly enough, most Families don't allow others to see their Histories which doesn't just include Family History but whatever a Member wrote down about their Time. So if a witch or wizard found a Futhark tablet and dated it they could only go by that date. Before the Vimose was recovered they didn't have much to go on that dated past a certain time, which was around the later half of the 3rd century."

"But wouldn't someone from one of the Families, whatever the hell those are, have told someone that they were morons for thinking that?"

"Not necessarily. Most Family Archives are in deplorable conditions. They only wrote down their Members on their Family Trees, so unless a person kept a diary then we have no idea what happened during that time period. And those that did keep Histories, like the Ravenclaws or the Brockelhurst have been robbed blind a few times or had their Family Homes torched. Dark Wizards are pretty bad at keeping their hands to themselves."

"Oh...so what are Families?"

Astray laughed. "Families are far too complicated for me to explain in one sitting and that's not why we're here, but if you check out _The Great Five Hundred_. You'll get a good overview of what they are. It was written by a pureblood but read before publication by a muggleborn so it's easy to read. Er...easier to read. It's so dry that I need water with me whenever I read it but you do learn a lot. Granted there's a _lot_ more to the Families than _The Great Five Hundred_ but it's a general tool."

"Now back to Runes. The rune names stood for their rune because of the first phoneme in the name which is the principle of acrophony-"

"Wait. Acrophony?"

"Acrophony refers to naming letters in an alphabetic writing system using words whose initial sounds are represented by their respective letters. For instance, were the English alphabet named acrophonically, the letter "A" might be named "ax" or "aardvark" or any other word beginning with A."

"Oh. You mean like the Egyptian hieroglyphics used things like the picture of an eye could stand for the English words _eye_ and _I_ like I am Man?"

"Yes exactly." Astray said beaming at him. "Now there are exceptions to every rule and in this case two. _Ingwaz_ and _Algiz_ are not for the first phoneme..."

And so the next five hours passed in this way until it was time for Astray to head off for the Weekly Hogwarts Staff Meeting. Harry had never learned most of this information because Sensei Muzuki knew he was fighting in a war so skipped everything that wasn't _absolutely vital_ to him learning Runes. Which sadly included the history behind it.

"And so our lesson for the day ends. I have things to do, namely the Meeting That Only Exists to Bore Me to Death and Drags on for Years so get out! Go on, shoo!" Harry packed up his notes, picked up his bag and made his way to the Library.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

"Emilia I was told by a little bird that you had your first lesson with Harry Potter and that it lasted five hours." Minerva said as the meeting drew to a close.

"Well, the boy is certainly stupid enough for it." Snape said.

"Severus Snape! You are never to insult a student in that way, even out of their hearing, do you understand me?" Minerva snarled, her lips pressed in a tight line and her eyes spitting fire. Snape didn't say anything, but that was generally taken as a 'Yes ma'am' by everyone present. After all Minerva had been spellcasting for decades before Snape had been born and had survived two wars.

"I've never had a student as eager to learn as Harry. He's a credit to his House; he's frighteningly intelligent and he did his homework but it was mostly on the Runes themself. He didn't know any of the history behind them but he knows a _lot _and it shows in everything he does. I think that by the time he's a fifth year he'll have learned everything we have to teach him _and _have read the entire Library."

"You enjoyed teaching him then?" Albus asked, his eyes smiling at her.

"I've never enjoyed teaching anyone as much as I did him." Emilia said with a smile. "He's a lot like James, in his charm, and I'm sure his ability to both get in and out of trouble but he's got a lot of Lily in him as well."

"I'm glad to hear that. I was a little leerily, to be honest, of allowing him to take extra lessons in light of everything that happened this summer but if he's truly doing as well as you say I don't see a problem." Minerva said.

"What happened this summer?" Emilia asked frowning deeply.

"I-" Minerva looked like someone had just trapped her tail in a door. "That's not my place to say. I didn't-"

Emilia, seeing as she'd been a dormmate of Lily Evans even if they hadn't been close, thought furiously. It couldn't have been a Death Eater attack, even thought she knew the boy had been brought to Poppy's Person Torture Chamber, because it would've been all over the news. But... "No..." She breathed.

"Emilia?" Rolanda Hooch asked frowning. "What is it?"

"It was those nasty relatives of his wasn't it? I remember Lily crying sometimes at night because her sister wrote her a nasty hate letter. Telling her what a freak she was and how she should do society a favor and kill herself. Did those nasty people hurt him?" Emilia asked furiously.

Dumbledore's shoulders slumped and Emilia thought that she'd never seen him look so very old. "I hadn't wanted people to know unless Harry wanted to tell them, but yes. After Filius dropped the boy back at his home Harry's uncle apparently attacked him. He was locked in a cupboard and kept there only being brought out so his uncle and cousin could beat him."

"He was in awful shape when we got there." Minerva said, her face white at just the thought of it. "His uncle had apparently decided he'd had enough and was going to kill the boy. He'd been stabbed and had used magic to disarm him."

"That's how he memorized the Ingredient and Reaction Tables." Snape said as it finally dawning on him. "Because that was the only thing he had to do." He'd given his students all a quiz on the two tables and Harry was the only student who'd answered them all correctly.

"Yes I suspect so." Albus said with a nod. "I don't want anyone to treat him any differently now that you know. Poppy says it's important for him to have stability in his life."

"Of course, Albus."

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

By the time Wednesday had rolled around Harry was nearly bouncing in excitement. Several of his yearmates, those who knew what was going on, thought he was insane. Taking on _another_ class when most of them still had trouble casting even the most basic of spells and still got lost on their way to class. Harry had seen Hermione give him hard looks every time they met in the hallways and she wouldn't even look at him during Transfiguration but Harry didn't care. He knew the only reason she wasn't asking to take on more classes was because she wanted to learn everything she could in the classes they had before moving on. Harry didn't care, he wanted something _challenging,_ and if Astray didn't challenge him he was going to go batty through sheer boredom.

When Wednesday morning came Harry raced toward the Great Hall and ate everything on his plate. He knew that Astray would enter the Hall in exactly three minutes as she had every day since school started. He got up with thirty seconds to go and had an extra large cup of coffee waiting for the sluggish woman when she sat down. The cup would refill itself from the pot sitting before her every time she drained it. He'd also been rather sneaky getting the house-elves to put a potion he'd invented during the war to wake a person up. He had sworn to the little people that it wouldn't hurt the woman before they'd done it for him.

"Now onto that work I've decided to give you." She said stepping into her office. "If this is too hard for you or you just don't want to do it I'll understand."

"No ma'am. I've agreed to do it so I will." Harry said.

"This is just a worksheet for my third years. It's a test to see who actually read their text books and who didn't. It also weeds out the faint of heart. If there's a test on the first day people know the class will be challenging and will either stick with it or drop it. The Runes are on the left, the definition on the right. You can use the...books..." Harry took a seat at the desk halfway through her little speech and had already gone through the first three answer when she trailed off. "Well then. I think this is going to be the start of a beautiful friendship, Harry."

Harry just nodded absently as he marked the papers. Ten minutes later he was done with all the third year sheets and looked up. "Professor, have you anything else for me to do?"

She handed him another stack of papers. By ten o'clock they'd completed her entire homework stack. "Well, damn, now what am I supposed to do for lunch?" Astray asked with a laugh.

"You could try eating."

"Yeah, but lunch lasts two hours and I don't have to watch the little ankle bit--er I mean the students today."

"Do something--well I don't know but I have to go to class now. Have a nice day Professor, I'll see you Friday."

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

___I feel like I should be doing my evil laugh,__ Harry thought as he carefully made his way through the school toward the dungeons. He'd never played a prank on anyone in his life and was a little wary of being caught. He felt, however, that Snape deserved anything Harry did to him. It wasn't like other students could get away with it. Not if Snape used Legilimency on the students like Harry was sure he did. ____Besides I think Snape will look rather fetching with Cannon orange hair and carmine skin._

_Harry reached the man's office and slipped around the pathetic wards the man had up. He set up the time delayed prank and crept back to him room. ____Can't wait until my body builds up to be able to go into my Forms. Sneaking around as a cat or a Snidget is so ____much easier than as a human._

_Harry slipped into bed and blew out the dim candle he'd left burning on his nightstand. As he lay he head down his whispered, "Mischief Managed."___

___**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**_

Added: June 10, 2008


	5. Chapter 10: Fun with Trolls

**Chapter Ten**

**Fun with Trolls**

Before Harry knew it the second week of class was over and it was time for Flying Class with the Hufflepuffs. Harry had decided he wasn't going to join the Quidditch team, it felt like cheating because he was twenty years old and had had nearly ten years of practical skills and knew all the Gryffindor plays. Besides, he just wasn't interested in Quidditch any longer. He hadn't even flown a broom for pleasure in more than four years; he'd had too much to learn, too much to do, and too waste time on something as meaningless as Quidditch.

The rest of his year mates showed up not a minute after he'd taken his place. Some of the Hufflepuffs looked a little nervous but the same could be said about one or two muggleborn Ravenclaws. Harry vaguely recalled being terrified of flying but he seemed to remember something about not wanting to embarrass himself more than any actual fear of flying itself. "All right class, this is a dangerous class and I want no messing around. Take a place next to the broom you want and wait for instructions."

Harry had, unconsciously, placed a set of Runes on his broom to prohibit people from casting any spells on it while he was riding. It was something that Sensei Muzuki had taught him when she found out he loved to fly, and had become second nature after his partner had been killed because someone sent his broom headfirst into the ground at 200 mph.

"Right, then, hold you hand over your broom and say 'Up'." Hooch said her hawk-like face moving rapidly back and forth as if she was trying to watch all her students at the same time. Harry lazily followed her instructions waiting for the rest of his classmates to catch up. When everyone had their brooms they mounted and Hooch went around to correct their hand placements and grips. At first they hovered over the ground, at three feet so no one would get hurt if they fell off, then they followed Hooch like a bunch of baby ducks. The woman went faster then did more 'complex' moves telling them to hit the ground when they felt they could no longer continue. Padma and Lisa were the first to bow out. Slowly but surely the rest of his classmates dropped out until there was only Wayne Hopkins, Hooch and Harry flying. Hooch seemed to be having a great time as she led them through more and more complex moves before leading them to the ground. "Very good, you two. Keep this up and you'll be able to try out of your house teams next year."

Harry gave a grunt and walked back to Hogwarts when Hooch released him and Wayne, who stayed behind to fly some more.

"Mr. Potter, just the person I was looking for." McGonagall said coming at him from his right. Harry looked up and nearly groaned. He knew that look on her face. She wanted something from him. "I have several things to speak to you about, please follow me."

Harry followed McGonagall to her office and blinked when he saw Pomfrey, Dumbledore and Flitwick there as well. "Have I done anything wrong?"

"No." McGonagall said shaking her head. "We've brought you here so you'll feel comfortable. Taking you to the Headmaster's office could start unneeded rumors." Harry nodded but didn't know where they were trying to go with this. "We're here to discuss your placement this summer, and every summer after it."

"Aren't I going back to the Dursleys?" Harry asked, his confusion written clearly on his face.

"Of course you're not, why would you think that? After the way they treated you."

"They've been doing that all my life." Harry said blinking in confusion. "They just took it a little too far this time." Harry shrugged. "I thought you took me away to get treatment and to give them time to cool off before you had me apologize for using magic on them."

"I will leave the country with you before I see you go back to those foul people." Pomfrey said sniffing distastefully.

"No, Harry, we're here to discus your living situation and what will happen to the Dursleys."

"Happen to them?"

"Yes. Do you want them tried in the Wizarding or Muggle world?"

"Muggle." Harry said after a few moments of thought.

"What? But their punishments will be so much harsher in the Wizarding World."

"Yes, but if you try them here it'll just be 'those freaks thinking they can tell decent, normal folk what to do'. If they're tried by their peers it'll be a bigger blow to them. Besides, if it happens in the Wizarding World I can't shame the neighbors who all believed that I was a criminal before I could speak properly. Maybe it'll make them all think a little more when they see a little boy who was treated like I was."

"I see." Flitwick said. "A little subtle revenge."

"Yes. But don't tell Snape, I think he wishes I was a...loud, arrogant Gryffindor moron, excuse me Professors," Harry said with an apologetic nod towards the two Gryffindors in the room. "Even if I'm not in that House, and if you tell him I'm anything approaching 'his' territory I think he'll have a heart attack."

Flitwick and Pomfrey laughed while McGonagall coughed to hide her own laugh and Dumbledore's eyes went into overtime shining at them all. "Now for your summer home."

"I could always live on my own." Harry said with a shrug. "I've been raising myself my entire life, but for when the Dursleys butted in with unreasonable demands and punishments."

"Be that as it may, my boy, the Ministry will never agree to you living on your own at such a young age. I've managed to keep your situation quiet so far but it will only last for so much longer. I've kept them out of it so you can have at least some say in who you go to live with."

"Yes sir." Harry said and heard the unspoken _'you'll be sold to the highest bidder if the Ministry has any say'_. "Do you have a list of people you find acceptable? I heard from someone you've been a teacher for at least fifty or sixty years-"

"I've been a teacher for ninety-two years." Dumbledore said, causing Harry's mouth to drop opened before he coughed and blushed a little, closing his mouth with a snap.

"Well, then I imagine you know just about everyone between the ages of a hundred and nine to eleven."

"That I do. I've taught all of them, the ones that went to Hogwarts anyways, until '62 when the former headmaster was retired and I took over." Dumbledore smiled cheerfully at him. "As for a list, yes, I do believe I can find one from somewhere."

Harry nodded as the man took out a quill. "Would you like to live anywhere specific?"

"I've always wanted to live in Devon." Harry said. "I took my one and only trip there when I was six and have wanted to live there since. 'Course that could be because I was part of a group of other six year olds with Dudley – the Dursleys couldn't make it because Petunia had the flu and Vernon had to work – and it was the only time in my life that Dudley got scolded for hitting me."

"There's a rather large Wizarding Community that lives in Devon, at Ottery St. Catchpole there's a small Alley rather like Diagon Alley, however Season Alley only has a post office, a small bookstore, an Apothecary, a café, a pub and an odd and ends store. Then you have Topsham, a coastal town with a very small Wizarding population. There isn't an Alley there." Pomfrey said. Harry had said Devon at first because he knew that's where the Weasleys lived, and even if he couldn't befriend them if he was nearby he could help protect them. But he knew, sure as the sun rose every morning, that if he was too close to them for too long he'd befriend them if he wanted to or not. Being in History and Transfiguration twice a week with Ron was hard enough. Living near him? That would be torture. Pomfrey must have read some emotion in his face because she quickly said, "Or we could find you a family who lives in Diagon Alley."

"You can live in the Alley? Well, I mean that's a stupid thought of course you can." Harry said with a laugh. "But I didn't think of that."

"You wouldn't really be living in Diagon Alley unless someone there has a shop, most likely you live in either Origin Alley, Margin Alley, or Parti Alley. Those are the residential Alleys with a few small stores dotted throughout. The entire division is called Diagon Alley for convenience sake."

"I wouldn't mind living in Diagon Alley. If there are approved people living there."

"I'm sure there are." Pomfrey said with a smile.

"We have the Brentons, Alcocks, Calbraiths, De Morgans, Jensons, Hodgkinsons, Goodfellows, Cresswells-"

"Albus the boy doesn't know who any of those people are." Pomfrey complained. "Harry, do you want to live with people with children?"

"I would rather not." Harry said. "If I want companionship I know where to find it, but I'd rather not take a person's parents away from them. Having an eleven year old boy just dropped on them wouldn't be good for the peace of a household."

Harry could see that Dumbledore wanted to argue with him but didn't when he saw McGonagall and Pomfrey nod. "Then that cuts down the number of applicants." Dumbledore said. "I'm to assume you want someone relatively young so they can relate to you. Say your parents' age?"

"I wouldn't, and forgive me, want someone too old, no."

"Understandable." Dumbledore said with a nod. "Well there's the Dodderidge, who own the Leaky Cauldron, the-"

"You-they'd be willing to adopt me? Er, I mean take guardianship of me at least?" Harry asked.

After the war with Voldemort really started to heat up Harry had gotten to know Tom, the barkeeper of the Cauldron relatively well. He knew Tom had a son that was about nine years older than Harry who'd moved to the dragon reserve in Romania right after Hogwarts, a wife who did all the cooking for the Cauldron, and a daughter was had taken off and married a Muggle in '84 leaving the job of cleaning to two people who barely had time to sleep. Tom had supplied him with information all the time. People always say if you want to know something about someone ask a female. But Harry knew the truth of the matter was: ask a barkeeper. They were told everything from births to deaths to marriage woes to 'my daughter is running around with that awful so and so boy'. Living at the Cauldron would be _good_ for him if he could manage to keep his identity relatively secret. He could keep up on the latest in the Wizarding World, manipulate things his way if he really needed to and be seen by the people of the Wizarding World. Harry knew that the first time around the reason people were so willing to turn their backs on him is that he seemed to always have a secret. He didn't speak to the press, he didn't speak to the store owners, hell he even refused to wave to people when they did. He'd have been disgruntled by his attitude as well.

"I dare say so." Dumbledore beamed at him. "Melinda Cresswell, who is now married to Tom Dodderidge, was Lily Evans mentor when we still did that sort of thing at Hogwarts. Melinda led your mother around Hogwarts until she got the feel for it and tutored her in class for two years. I heard that your mother kept in contact with Melinda during the two years she was still at Hogwarts after her mentor had left. And I know Melinda was at your birth."

"Really?" Harry hadn't heard any of that the first time around. He heard everyone tell him anything he wanted to know about his father, but never his mother. "Do you think they would mind if I contacted them? I think it would be better for me to get to know them a little better before I make any final decisions."

"I think that would be best. I'll contact Melinda and Tom about writing you."

"Yes, sir. If that's all I wanted to go to the Library with the time I have left before Lunch is over."

"Of course, of course!" Dumbledore stood up and followed him from the room. They walked together until they reached the third floor where Dumbledore would either take the secret passage that lead directly to his office or continue on doing whatever it was he did all day.

Harry made his way to the Ravenclaw Common Room and followed a seventh year inside. He sat down at the table he'd claimed the first week of school and started his letter.

_Dear Tom and Melinda Dodderidge_

_Headmaster Dumbledore should've wrote you a letter saying I wanted to write to you. I hope you've gotten it already. My name is Harry Potter, I'm eleven years old. I don't know what Dumbledore wrote to you about but I'd like to explain the situation myself._

_Before school started it became necessary for Professor Dumbledore, McGonagall and Flitwick to retrieve me my from Aunt's home. My Uncle didn't take too well to finding out he hadn't beaten the magic out of me. So he and my cousin spent the rest of the break August month beating me. Both myself and Headmaster Dumbledore feel that that situation isn't conductive for a young boy to grow up in._

_What this all means is that I need a place to stay during the summer months. I would prefer living in Diagon Alley and where better for both my safety and education to live in the Leaky Cauldron, where I'm sure there are all kinds of interesting people that pass through and wouldn't mind talking to an eleven year old. If you don't feel you're up to taking on the care of me I'll understand and won't bother you any more. And don't let the Headmaster pressure you either._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Harry J Potter_

Harry looked the letter over, it was his sixth draft, and decided it wasn't going to get much better than it was. It sounded a little mature but he couldn't dumb himself down and better they get a feel for him now than be surprised later. Harry looked over the last line and nodded. He wouldn't be taking that line out, if the Headmaster read it, oh well. He also wouldn't say that the old man's pressure on Petunia was what made her keep him around and her resentment of that probably intensified her hatred of Harry. Harry looked at the time and saw that he had time to run up to the Owlery and send the letter off. It would probably make it to London by tomorrow morning.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

"Tom we've got a letter." Melinda Dodderidge said as she took the letter from the most beautiful white owl she'd ever seen.

"A letter? Who'd be writing us?" Tom asked as he looked up from the Prophet.

"You do remember that Dumbledore visited us yesterday, correct?"

"Yes."

"Do you remember why?"

"He said something about Harry Potter writing-oh right." Tom said with a sheepish smile. "Read it to me?"

"Of course."

By the time Melinda had finished reading the letter she was seeing red. "I remember Lily telling me about her sister. How dare he leave little Harry with that monster!?"

"Now, buttercup, there's no need-"

"There's plenty need for that man to get a good dressing down!" Melinda shouted. "And I'll be the one to do it! Honestly! Leaving a poor baby with that woman was asking for trouble!"

"Yes, but-"

But Melinda wasn't listening to her husband of twenty-seven years. She was already at the Floo and through it before her husband knew what she was doing. When she got to Hogwarts and saw that the Headmaster was at his desk, surrounded by the Heads of Houses, she lost her temper. "Albus Dumbledore, how dare you leave Harry with those awful beasts?!"

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Before Harry knew it was Halloween and he, as had because his custom on that day, was brooding. He'd had to put up with too many attempts on his life every Halloween since he'd turned eleven to ever enjoy that day. The people around him just thought he was reflecting on his parents, and while he did think of them more on that day than anyone other, it was much more than that. He had received and written over a dozen letters to the Dodderidges. Harry already knew what kind of people they were so wasn't very worried about liking them but also knew that writing them was a chance for them to get to know him.

At the moment, however, he wasn't thinking of the Dodderidges or his Mission. He was at lunch listening as Padma and Lisa _did not_ whine about Herbology (Harry had made the mistake last week of telling them not to whine about it and had nearly had his head chewed off). "I just don't see why it's a core class." Padma said as she took a bite of her steak and kidney pie. "I mean how many people actually like gardening? And of those people how many of them are going to keep dangerous plants around?"

"It's not so much what people keep around them," Stephen Cornfoot cut in from his place at the end of the group. "it's more of what to do when you come across the plant."

"I'll call an Exterminator to get rid of it. Or my Daddy." Lisa said shrugging carelessly as she sipped her pumpkin juice. "Besides, how many dangerous plants am I going to come across randomly?"

"Some plants grow where magic takes place. I mean, just randomly pop up because you're doing spells inside your house." Harry said. "I know Hagrid has a full time job just trying to keep the more...aggressive plants down."

"Well then the Exterminator sounds like a really good plan to me. I **hate** getting dirty. I can't wait until Third Year when we get to chose our own classes." Lisa said.

"Don't be stupid, Lisa." Anthony Goldstein said rolling his eyes. "You get to pick _new_ classes. You can't drop old ones. You can only drop a class after your OWLs."

"You mean I'm going to be in Herbology for _four more years?!"_

"That's what I mean." Anthony said with a smirk. "Of course as the years go by we'll get more and more dangerous plants to deal with which mean more and more **dirt**."

"I _hate_ you." Lisa hissed, her voice dangerous before they all laughed and got up to go their separate ways for the last hour of lunch.

Harry went to the Library and got a book on Defense, since it was Thursday and they had Defense after lunch, as it was better to spend his time reading in class than sitting there looking stupid because Voldemort doesn't want people to know how to defend themselves.

By that evening he was so jumpy that even his dorm mates it and he'd never actually spoken more than six or seven words at a time to any of them. "Come on Harry, let's go to the feast. Getting something to eat will do you good."

"No thank you, Padma." Harry said. "I never celebrate this day."

"Why not?" Harry glanced at her and gave her a 'are you stupid look' before flicking his eyes upwards. Her eyes were drawn to his scar. Her eyes widened and she flushed. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

"No, no, you go have fun." Harry said waving his hand.

Of course Harry knew the Troll was going to be let in but he also knew that Hermione hadn't been bad-mouthed by Ron – who hadn't been trying to show off for Harry – so hadn't spent the day crying in the bathroom. With any luck -- Harry mentally snorted -- all would be safe and sound in their Common Room before the night was over.

It was about a hour later and Harry had already been down to the kitchens and finished his meal when it happened. There was a crash outside the Common Room, on the opposite side of the door, and then a _boom_ before the wall shuddered. After three more hits, or at least Harry thought they were hits, the wall shattered and large portions of the stone that made up the wall went flying in every direction, some at him. Harry went for his wand and closed his eyes briefly when he realized he didn't have it. _Of all the times not to have your wand, Potter, it has to be right now when you have a thirteen foot Troll after you who's pissed enough to destroy the entire room, you included. You knew the damn Troll was going to be let in. Your arrogance is showing._

Harry dodged around the the couch, ducking behind it to get his bearings. There wasn't a lot he could do without his wand, using Runes in this type of situation was asking to die and martial arts was useless against the thick skinned Troll even if he had been up to his First Time standards which he wasn't. That's like pitting a three year old against The Hulk. Harry peeked over the couch to see the Troll lumbering toward him. _Shit, shit, shit. Where is that damn wand?_ Harry dove to the side just as the couch was smashed to splinters and rolled toward another couch. _Note to self, put down Runes that you can charge to have a combat system ready in the tower for the next time a monster comes after you._ Harry dove towards another hiding place as the Troll picked up the couch and threw it to the side. _Wand, wand where are you?_

Harry held out his hand, "_Accio wand!"_ He cried out just as the Troll spun around catching him in the side with its club. His world exploded in pain as he went flying across the room to hit the wall. He'd heard a crack and was sure his ribs were broken. He'd had a half plan to escape and run from the Troll but now that thought was impossible. Harry knew from experience that it didn't matter how good your training was or your pain tolerance. A broken rib would still lay you out flat. Not three seconds later his wand came zipping in from the boy's dorm. "_Bombarda!"_ Harry shouted, banishing the largest table in the room at the Troll. The table worked, in so far as it knocked the troll back but didn't do any real damage to the Troll, other than to provoke it.

The Troll let out a roar that Harry _knew_ would've been heard throughout the castle seeing as it shook the very floors and charged him. "Oh shit!" Harry hissed before picking the table up, this time with a simple levitation charm, and bashing it repeatedly against the Troll. He couldn't actually get it in the head because the table was large and unwieldy and the Trolls size helped it as it's head brushed the ceiling. Of course having a table that weighs nearly a hundred pounds hit you repeatedly affected even a Troll and Harry got a good hit to the back of it's knees after five tries.

The Troll hit the ground, its weight shaking the entire room. It blinked at him stupidly from its knees before roaring again and pushing itself up. Or it would have if Harry had given it time. He took the table and bashed the Troll's head in relentlessly until it stopped moving. Just as he dropped the table Dumbledore, Flitwick, and McGonagall with Snape and Sprout just viable behind them, appeared in the newly made large whole in the wall.

"Harry!" Padma was standing just behind Dumbledore and was blinking at him before seeing the damage to the room. She let out a cry and rushed toward him. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but I _hate_ Halloween. Next year I'm sending myself to the bottom of the lake in an box that no one but myself can see." Harry said as he swayed slightly.

Padma let out a sound between a laugh and a sob. "Next year I'm not leaving you alone to get into trouble. You'll go to the Great Hall where its safe with the Headmaster." Padma said as she gentle steered him to a seat. "How did it get in?"

"The hole in the wall there? Yeah, it made it."

"No I mean Trolls are really stupid so they never should've been able to get inside the castle, let alone all the way up here – to our Tower on the seventh floor. I mean it had to go up all those staircases, some of them are so small even _I_ think I'm going to fall right down them. The only Trolls in these parts are Mountain Trolls and the mountains are nearer to the Gryffindor part of the castle, all the way on the other side, than they are to us. Why attack Ravenclaw Tower when there were easier targets? I mean it had to cross the entire castle to get here and that just doesn't make any sense." Lisa and Su had joined Padma at his side, crowding around him protectively.

"Because this Troll was sent to kill Mr. Potter." Snape said after he'd cast a spell on it. "Someone let it in, got it up here and put a compulsion on it to go after Mr. Potter and kill him while destroying as much as it could." Snape's eyes bore into Harry but Harry wasn't worried because his shields were working overtime. "It's just fortunate for us that Mr. Potter knows whatever spells he knew."

"Bombarda to throw a table at him then a Wingardium Leviosa to beat it into the ground with the table." Harry said as he looked around the room. "Personally I don't think we'll sleep very well here tonight."

"No indeed, Mr. Potter. Perhaps you and your friends will go down to the Great Hall to join your classmates?"

"Sure." Harry said. "Beats staying around here."

The Professors all watched as the girls gathered around Harry and escorted him to the Great Hall. "Oh Mr. Potter." McGonagall said suddenly. Harry paused and looked back at her. "Fifty points to Ravenclaw for your bravery and for living through a Troll attack. Many adult wizards can't say the same."

"Well, no offense Professor but there wasn't much bravery there. I just knew it was Halloween and that this giant thing burst through the wall and it didn't seem to like me being there very much. I just did what I had to do to stay alive."

Harry sat down on the sleeping bag someone had put out, maybe the House-elves as Dumbledore hadn't been there this time. Harry was in more pain that he'd been in since the Dursleys. "Harry are you alright?"

"I've got a broken rib." Harry said.

Padma stared at him for a second before tugging his shirt up. The bruise that had already formed on his side was a deep purple color. "Jenny! Jenny!"

The Head Girl stood up with a sigh and walked over to them. "Yes, Patil, what is it?"

"Well, you see Harry-" She waved her hand toward the bruise and watched as the girl's eyes widened.

"It's not a big deal. I can heal it myself." Harry said and hissed as Jenny poked his ribs. "Dammit, woman, that hurts!"

Jenny took out her wand and prodded his ribs a few times. "Well it's not serious. I can heal it but you're going to have an awful bruise for a while."

"I already knew that." Harry muttered in a foul temper. _What is it with women always having to poke a wound? Isn't it enough we've got them? They have to make them worse?_

"All right, it's all healed up. Lay down and go to sleep. The professors will make sure no more Trolls make their way into the castle."

"Like they did with this one?" Harry grumbled back obediently lay down.


	6. Chapter 11: Rooms That Require

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl and Liljean15690

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

**Rooms That Require**

Harry knew that the Troll attacking him on Halloween would make its rounds. It had in his first year and it did again. He didn't know, however, how much having Ron there to boast that he'd done the real work – after all, he'd been the one who knocked the Troll out, hadn't he? – had taken the pressure off of him. He knew that seeing as the Ravenclaw Tower had been destroyed (several of the NEWT students had sensitive objects in their dorms which had exploded when the Professors started the heavy magic required to repair the Common Room causing the Dorms to collapse) that people would be impressed. But this was too much. It was estimated that it would take nearly two weeks to repair the Common Room but everything – expect the sensitive objects – would be put right or replaced. In that two week period, though, the Ravenclaws had to stay somewhere. The first night they'd slept, along with all the other students, in the Great Hall but they couldn't stay there the entire time the Tower was being repaired.

Therefore, it was decided they would live in empty guest suites that hadn't been used for nearly two hundred years. They had to be cleaned and aired out but the House Elves – efficient little creatures that they were – took care of that in less than ten minutes. The major problem was that they had to attend classes despite the fact they didn't have any robes other than what they had been wearing on Halloween night, but even worse, for the Ravenclaws at least, no one had their notes, books, or supplies, and a Ravenclaw going to class unprepared was like a Gryffindor going into a duel with a Slytherin without his wand.

An upset this large hadn't occurred seen since 1682 when a sixth year student named Uric "Oddball" Umbridge had set fire to the Tower because he'd been 'abused' by his peers. The fire had been contained and put out but it had still destroyed the fourth year rooms.

While most of the Ravenclaws were running around like chickens with their heads chopped off, figuratively of course, Harry was having a great time trying to avoid _everyone_. Even Padma, even _Hermione_ wanted to hear about his epic battle with the Troll. They were all acting like it was some kind of fight with a dragon and a Chimera both at the same time, let's forget that they would've tried to kill each other before worrying about a puny little human.

Harry knew it had to be more exciting that a couple of first years knocking out a Troll with its own club – because lets face it, that sounded pretty boring unless you'd ever faced a Troll, nothing had even been destroyed expect three sinks and the frame of the door – but destroying the _entire_ Ravenclaw Tower? The imagination could run completely wild with that. Let's forget the fact that it was the objects the sixth years were studying that did most of the destroying of the Tower. No Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, had to have done _battle_.

"_Bloody morons_," Harry hissed as he ducked into a side corridor to get away from the latest group of admirers.

Classes had been canceled the day after the Great Troll Attack, which had been on a Thursday so the students had the entire weekend to settle down and get the attack out of their system. It was Sunday and Harry was still being hounded so he didn't think they'd just magically stop thinking about it in fifteen hours. He hadn't even gotten relief from the madness in his lesson with Astray because she'd been volunteered – forced into helping at wandpoint if you believed her moaning – to help fix the Tower.

Harry slipped from his hiding place and moved carefully throughout the halls. He had a vague idea of hiding down in the dungeons because no one in their right mind – not even the Slytherins – would willingly stay down in their section of the castle because of Snape. The Hufflepuffs of course had their own section of the Dungeons which was on the opposite side of the castle. He was nearly to the back entrance to the dungeons when he was spotted by the enemy.

"Harry! You're so cool!" Lavender simpered from the front of a group of girls who'd found him, as she latched onto his arm like some kind of parasite. "I mean you killed a Troll!"

"And with just a table! And a first year spell!" A second year Harry vaguely remembered from the First Time but couldn't for the life of him remember her name.

"I didn't-"

The girls had, somehow, surrounded him with him realizing it and started to herd him back the way he came. He could've gotten away by using physical force or hexing the lot of them before they realized what was going on but he had to think of his reputation. If he was heavy handed and got away from the girls he'd probably get the reputation of being a violent brat and that was the last thing he needed.

As they led him from the dungeons no one noticed Snape step out of the shadows, his face was contorted into a mask of fury.

"You're so brave, Harry, I can't believe you did that!" Harry wanted the ground below him to open and swallow him whole. He didn't like being surrounded by people, he's face broke into a sweat and his hands were twitching closer to his wand with every second that passed. He wanted someone to save him, Ron or Hermione were his first thoughts, but they didn't know him here, did they? _You haven't any friends to stop the flow of well-wishers and hanger-ons now, do you?_

Harry was suddenly reminded of the day back in fifth year when Ron had a go at Seamus for arguing with Harry about him not being crazy, or something like that. Ron had torn into Seamus then challenged the entire House for him. He wanted that again. He wanted his friends back and he wanted them _now_.

And all he could think about in his building panic was that he was surrounded by the enemy and he didn't have anyone at his back. Where were Bill and Charlie? Had they been killed? Or even worse captured?

Where were Hermione and Ron? Weren't they on this mission? He'd needed them to help him and they were the only ones he trusted. Harry saw a flash of light come toward him and flinched, stumbling on the uneven stone floor as the Death Eaters propelled him forward.

A flash of red appeared in the distance. Harry shoved his magic toward his eyes to see who had died when he saw that it was the Weasley twins. They were laughing and carrying on like they didn't have a care in the world.

Harry was just getting ready to shout at them to run when everything seemed to rush at him and he abruptly came back to himself. The Twins weren't in danger. There were no Death Eaters. Just a gaggle of stupid preteens staring at him in concern. He was at Hogwarts. He was only eleven years old. Voldemort was a helpless spirit in Quirrell. The Death Eaters were all in hiding at the moment, lying low and holding 'respectable' jobs. There was no immediate danger. _Everything's fine, Potter, deep breaths. Remember what Hermione said about panic attacks. They can only control you if you let them._

Running up to Hermione, who was extremely jealous of Harry, or Ron, who seemed to be in awe of Harry, or even the Twins who he had never seen up close in this time wouldn't be the smartest thing he'd ever done. They weren't _his_ Ron or Hermione or Fred and George. Hell, _his_ Ron had dumped him when something better came along and _his_ Hermione had mostly ignored him because she was too deep in her research. He knew she only came around when someone asked her how Harry was. It hurt all the more that she had to be reminded he existed but gods did he want them at his side again.

Harry made his excuses to the girls surrounding him, telling them he suddenly felt ill, before he escaped to his suite of rooms. Luckily for him, his roommates weren't in the Wing or he'd have done something they all would have regretted to get them to leave. Harry threw himself on his bed and buried his face in his pillows, pulling the blanket up over his head.

After getting back into his 'school' phase of mind, he'd began to feel distinctly unsettled and facing the Troll on Halloween had only enhanced the feeling of being unbalanced. Something had been building in him that he'd ignored, in favor of escaping all his peers, but now that he'd brought the thought to his conscious mind he wanted nothing else but his friends.

Harry wanted Hermione's bossy, awkward attempts at friendship and Ron's defensive but still laid-back attitude. He wanted Hermione to harp about him and Ron not eating right or not doing their homework right or for her to smile brightly at him when he got a spell right on the first try. He wanted Ron's offer of a game of chess or Exploding Snap or _anything_ to get out of homework. He wanted the familiar colors of the Gryffindor Common Room, which suddenly seemed much more comforting now that he didn't have it. He wanted to glance over and see the Twins plotting their chaos and the lectures he'd often overheard Percy give to the Twins about responsibility and setting an example for the younger students and he wanted the Twins smart comments and jovial attitude.

Being back at Hogwarts had felt like slipping on an old pair of worn shoes: comfortable, comforting, and _right_. It had been different but it was still Hogwarts and that's all that ever mattered to him. He hadn't really thought about his old life compared to his new. It hadn't settled in yet that he didn't have anyone. He didn't have any friends who'd take a curse for him like Ron and Hermione would've done in their younger days.

He wanted his old life back so much it was a physical ache. His friends might be dead for all the good they did when they were standing just feet away from him in classes because they _weren't_ his friends. They were just strangers who wore his friends' skin. They had the same mannerisms and reacted to certain situations the same but they were strangers in every way that mattered.

When he'd made the decision to go into Ravenclaw and be a different person he hadn't realized it was going to hurt so much. He hadn't realized how ingrained his friends had been to him and how much seeing them back in Hogwarts, in his classes, would tear at him.

Tears filled Harry's eyes and fell down his cheeks. He didn't remember falling asleep.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Harry woke up the next morning with puff eyes, a headache and a sore throat. He guessed it was from crying like a little girl the night before so ignored it and sat up in bed to practice his Occlumency only to fall into a trance. He came out of it to the sound of his dorm mates getting ready for class.

"Should we wake him up?"

"Let the pounce sleep. It's not like he actually needs to go to class, is it?"

"Kevin!"

"What? You've seen him strutting around the same as I have. He doesn't talk to anyone but that Patil bint and-"

"Did you ever think he was just shy? Or maybe he's unsure of us? None of us have tried to talk to him either."

"Because he hasn't!" Kevin snarled.

Harry wanted to get up and punch the guy but didn't. That wouldn't serve a purpose, other than briefly making him feel better, and would just make him really unpopular with his year mates.

"Did you ever think, _Kevin_, that I didn't want to talk to you because you're a pompous arse." Harry said as he threw his bed hanging back, showing them that he was sitting in his bed, dressed and ready to go to class, cross-legged and glaring death at Kevin. "Of course you probably wouldn't notice because your head's stuck so far up your own arse you can't see anything beyond your own needs and wants."

"Go to Hell Potter!" Kevin snarled, his cheeks flushed as he turned and stomped out of the room.

"I'm sorry, Harry, Kevin's just really sensitive about things because his Dad's in prison."

"What?" Harry asked blinked at Stephen Cornfoot.

"Well...Kevin's Dad is a convicted Death Eater." Michael Corner said, as they all shifted uncomfortably. "Everyone who knows him says the Wizengamot got it all wrong and that Kevin's Dad was a good person but Kevin...he's always hated Dumbledore for letting them put his Dad in prison and...well you for killing the Dark Lord and...well I'm not sure why he doesn't like you. Kevin's a nice guy, really he is. He just has some issues."

_Oh he has issues, _Harry though. He truly hated Kevin because Kevin had dated Ginny then captured her and Molly Weasley after convincing them he wanted to pick out an engagement ring. He'd tortured them for nine days before sending them back piece by piece to the Burrow starting with their toes and working his way up to their head. He even removed their organs. Oh yes, Harry hated Kevin Entwhistle but couldn't do anything about it. Yet.

For some reason Harry couldn't fathom Dumbledore _liked_ protecting those who worked for or thought like Voldemort. Harry hadn't understood it in his first life and he didn't understand it now. He just knew he didn't like it and would never agree with it.

Harry sighed as a bell toned throughout the school telling students if they weren't up they had better get that way fast as breakfast started soon.

What Harry wanted to do was crawl into a hole and hide but he had a feeling that none of his professors would appreciate that line of thought. So Harry dragged himself out of bed and straightened his shoulders. _Come on, Potter, you've face worse than this before. Buck up_, Harry thought at himself. A thought, unbidden, popped into his mind. _But you always had Ron and Hermione to protect you, uh? You don't have them now. No one to keep the masses from you, no one to change the subject when someone asks you an uncomfortable question. No Ron and Hermione walls between You and Them._

Harry shivered and tried to push the thought away, but it just echoed around in his mind for a moment. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his Occlumency shields but knew it was useless. He'd have to do some serious meditation before he went to bed that night and hope that Snape wouldn't randomly attack his shields in Potions.

Harry walked slowly toward the Potion classroom after he'd grabbed an apple and two slices of toast. He didn't want to go to class because people had already gone out of their way to try to talk to him in the corridors. He could only imagine what they'd be like in class. Harry held himself stiffly as he sat in his normal chair on the far side of the room. He was just glad that, with the way the seats were positioned, his back was facing towards the wall of the room with maybe two feet of space and no reason for anyone to go near him.

That day was one of the worse days Harry could remember having at Hogwarts . . . barring Umbridge's Reign of Terror. People stared at him and whispered about him. Called him a bloody hero. Every time someone clapped him on the back or a girl randomly linked arms with him he was three steps from hexing them. It wasn't until nearly lunch that he figured out what it was. His training had resulted in him being alone ninety percent of the time, with only Bill and Charlie Weasley and his Trainers Mad-Eye Moody, Remus Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt around. Anytime he was in a group larger than that it was to kill people. Having all this attention on him was bringing out this training, causing him to want to go spell crazy and start hexing everything that moved.

Harry decided to take action after his wand made it into his hand and a curse made it to his lips when a seventh year Gryffindor clapped him on the back with more force than needed. He'd been on his way to lunch but knew he'd never make it through the meal so skipped it and made his way down to the kitchens where he could have a meal in peace.

The House-Elves were only too happy to supply him with a good hardy meal. They were also delighted to take a note to Professor Flitwick telling the diminutive Professor that he wasn't going to be available this evening as he was going to find a nice little hole to hide in until curfew and if he was needed for anything a House-Elf would be Flitwick's best chance of finding him.

Harry made his way carefully through the school to the Seventh Floor and to the Room of Requirement, which was across from a tapestry showing Barnabas the Barmy trying to teach trolls to dance the ballet. _I need a room to hide my stuff._ Harry thought three times while pacing in front of the blank wall.

The large room with a thousand years of lost or hidden things appeared. _How can I use this to help myself? I'm _definitely _not telling anyone about it this time around. How completely and utterly stupid was I to tell the entire school about such an awesome room?_

Harry pulled out a sheet of parchment and started his List after finding an old but comfortable chair.

_Harry Potter's List to Change the World_

_1. Train Body_

_2. Continue to Improve Occlumency Barriers_

_3. Destroy Horcruxes _

_4. Fix up 12 Grim. Place_

_5. Get in touch with Remus (excellent source of information)_

_6. Get in touch with the Weasley Twins and get map back_

_7. Help the Twins develop 'prank' items such as the Extendable Ears etc._

_8. Get used to being in the Public Eye again (curb Hex Reflex)_

_9. Start using Fame to defeat V_

_10. Get Rita S. on my side? Or at least my payroll? (have to think about this one)_

_11. Learn More (learned a lot from trainers but more is needed to defeat V)_

_12. Stay at Leaky Cauldron with resp. adults who will want me around worth staying in touch w/Wizarding World_

_13. Start getting BM on Fudge._

_14. Destroy and/or Kill Umbridge_

_15. Perhaps bribe the WT with a 1000 Gs if they'll get good OWLs? (Make Molly Happy)_

_16. Send Padfoot care package? (think about benefits and risk. Worth it?)_

_17. Tracking Spell on the Rat (get away from me this time you bastard)_

_18. Defeat Quirrell with as small fuss as possible (maybe. B and R)_

_19. Money making schemes (get hands on pensive to go back over future papers)_

_20. Destroy Malfoy (both) before Third Year but not before getting D_

_21. Buy Vanishing Cabinet from Borgin and Burkes and get the one in H. (repair if n.)_

_22. Get new glasses (contacts) with charms like Mad-Eye's eye? (possible?)_

_23. Get Magical Tent_

_24. See if I can get more Cloaks_

_25. Find or buy useful items in coming months_

Harry looked over the List and decided it would do for now. Of course he'd have to revise it as time went by but it would do for the moment. He stuffed it back in the pocket he'd sewed on his breast, (it had concealing charms on it so no one could see it) and thought, _I need a book of useful items._ Three books appeared before him causing him to grin.

Two hours later, he'd read through them and decided on what he needed. "I need an invisibility cloak." Four cloaks flew at him causing him to grin madly. _Excellent! This way if Dumbledore ever takes Dad's then I can use one of these. And neither Dumbledore nor Snape will be able to find me because of my Occlumency._

Harry stuffed all but one of the cloaks in his bag then smacked his head and took them back out. _Can believe I forgot about that._ Harry waved his wand over each of the cloaks, one at a time, in a very complex pattern. Every invisibility cloak made from Demiguise, which made the best cloaks, started to fade after about a hundred and eighty to a three hundred years because they actually began to decompose. They were after all made from the hair of a monkey type creature. The invisibility feature started to fade after that time period and was completely gone by no later than sixty years after the process started. The cloak itself would last (in all its shimmering glory) for about another two hundred years after the effects faded. Very pretty but useless. Now Hermione (and various other people) had invented a spell to stop the aging of an invisibility cloak simply because all the cloaks they had were degenerating and they still had need of them during the war.

After that, Hermione had continued to work on the spell and actually made it reverse the aging process so it was like the cloak had been fleshly sheared from a Demiguise. It was a brilliant bit of magic and she got the idea from the Philosopher's Stone, which not only stopped a person from aging but reversed the affects of aging. Hermione had never got the time to research and see if she could create her own Stone but this step had been vital for the war – and for her own research – and so was approved by the Committee. After four minutes of intensive spellcasting for each cloak he shoved three of them in his bag. "I need a Time-Turner."

Four Time-Turners appeared in front of him on the ground. Three of them were broken in some shape or form but one of them appeared to be in working condition. Harry bagged it but decided not to use it until he'd studied up on them first. "Magical Tents?"

Eight tents appeared in compact form. Harry set up the tents and chose the largest for himself. _By god wizards don't do anything by half do they?_ Harry thought as he looked around the tent. It was a variable mansion to any person but especially for a boy who'd lived in the cupboard of a middle-class family for years, a dormitory with four other boys then lived in various safe-houses with two other grown men for the duration of the war. _Well safe-house would be stretching it a bit, wouldn't it Potter? More like huts and you were lucky if it had a bathroom with running water let alone a bed to sleep in. Rule one: always keep a tent handy._

Harry looked around him then moved onto the next thing on the Object List. "Foe-glass?" Eight foe-glasses appeared before him. All of them were broken. _Well now I know why Fake Mad-Eye's foe-glass was the one that appeared Before. It was the least broken of them all. Maybe I'll figure out the spells on the glass and make my own._

"Secrecy Sensor?" Apparently no one had ever lost or hidden a Secrecy Sensor, which didn't surprise him because they were both a recent invention having only been around for fifteen or so years and only the most paranoid of people used them. "How about a Sneakoscope?"

He'd hit the jackpot with them. There was a huge pile of Sneakoscopes and most of them looked like they'd work. Only some of them needed small repairs that Harry wasn't sure he was capable of doing. "Omnioculars."

Three came flying at him, causing him to grin. He'd learned, years before in his last life, to make Omnioculars better than the standard stock. They were excellent as surveillance equipment. "Timepieces?"

_Good Lord!_ Harry gasped as huge piles of timepieces flew at him to land in two towering piles. It would take him days to go through the piles and find the ones that worked. He sighed and moved around the two piles. _I should have expected that. I mean this is a school filled with children who'd lose their own heads if they weren't __attached._

"Trunks and bags." Harry called out. Harry winced and threw up a shield spell as several trunks and bags flew at him. They stopped in front of him in several stacks but only a moron would've just stood there as several heavy trunks flew at his head. "Looks like I just hit the jackpot," Harry said with a grin as he moved toward the bags and started to look through them.

It didn't surprise him that there were so many trunks there. After all, the Defense position had been cursed since the fifties and more than a fourth of the professors for that position had died. He set aside the bags that had no magic in them, probably from muggleborns who hadn't known magical bags would carry more, last longer and were resistant to a lot of things. That didn't mean he was just going to ignore them, however, he could cast his own spells on them later if he wanted.

In the end, he chose a bottomless bag that could hold up to three hundred pounds and had four compartments. It was quite an old bag, maybe forty years or so, judging by the homework in the bag, but the enchantments on it were strong, stronger than some of the new bags he'd seen on sell in Diagon Alley. The rest he shoved into the Muggle-made bags and charmed them invisible.

The first rule of dealing with expanded spaces was _never, ever put an expanded space inside another expanded space._ Expect for the Room of Requirements which was just a rule onto itself, apparently, putting expanded spaces inside another expanded space was begging for an explosion. There were safeguards you could put in place to stop explosions but most people didn't bother with them, stupidly thinking that it wouldn't happen to _them_. That was one of the reasons why the Weasley's didn't use expanding charms on their house. Putting the safeguard on just a room wouldn't stop the explosion if an object they brought into the house didn't have one. And since the Weasley's usually bought the cheapest they could, without sacrificing too much quality, they never ended up with very many objects that had safeguards on them.

Harry shook his head and went over to the trunks to check them out. He separated the junk from the good stuff (and wasn't it amazing the trunks and bags made in earlier times were better made than the stuff that'd been made in the last thirty or so years? Lazy bastards taking the easy way out.), then he went over and made sure none of the spells were unraveling and that there wasn't irreparable damage on any of the trunks. There were the normal nicks and scars but nothing that couldn't be fixed even by him.

He finally chose a trunk that had come from a Merwyn Fenlock who either had just abandoned all his things after he left school or had been forced to abandon them. Either way, Harry had all the man's clothes, books, notes and items. He'd have to go through them at a later date.

The trunk itself had four compartments in all but two had the locks hidden. Harry knew this was the trunk for him. People would know that he couldn't fit all his things into one compartment but if it had two visible compartments and the one hidden compartment they wouldn't look for another hidden one.

Harry put the rest of the trunks, after checking them for anything useful, to the side and gathered everything he'd received from the room. He disillusioned the trunk and placed the bags, with a sticking charm, on the top. He created a timed portkey that would bring the trunk to him in a half an hour and stuck it to the side of the trunk.

Harry made his way back to his dorm and sat on his bed. Harry quickly cast a ward on his part of the square room to make it look like he was sitting calmly on his bed reading a book. Harry really doubted anyone would disturb him but there was always the chance.

The air around him moved, signifying that the invisible trunk and the bags had arrived. Harry grinned and canceled the disillusionment spell and opened the trunk. The first compartment was nothing but clothes that surprisingly didn't look that bad. They were clearly of a high quality fabric but they didn't look too out of fashion, at least to Harry who knew next to nothing about Wizarding fashions.

He closed the trunk and turned the key, which had been hidden in a false bottom in the first compartment, and opened the second compartment. This was better. There were what had to have been over fifty books and scrolls in this compartment. The surprising thing was the letter stuck to the top of the compartment.

On the front was written:

**To Whomever may find my school trunk. I wish you all the best.**

Which Harry took to mean was for him. He checked for spells and found none so with a shrug he detached the letter and opened it.

**Dear Whomever you are that was so clever as to find my school trunk,**

**My name is Merwyn Fenlock. I am a seventh year student of the Slytherin House. I am Head Boy and have been a Prefect since my fifth year. I received twelve OWLs all O and twelve NEWTs eleven Os and an E (But I hardly think anyone can fault me for not having a Gift for Seeing), a record I hope I pass onto a worthy student quite soon. I wouldn't want for the quality of students to fall just to keep a record that really means nothing in the long run. **

**I specialize in creating spells which I'm going to continue doing after I leave Hogwarts. I've already created thirty-six spells, which you'll find in the third compartment of this trunk.**

**I do hope that whomever you are that you will treat my work the way it was meant to be treated. Most of the spells I created are rather nasty (at the moment there is a Dark Lord running around trying to claim the lives of my fellow Wizards). I felt the best way to contribute to the War, since I myself am not a Warrior, is to give the Warriors new weapons to wield. I should hope you are not an evil or even cruel person and that you use my Gifts to fight, as they say, The Good Fight.**

**Of course, the spells I've place on the trunk would keep you from finding it if you were of a cruel bent. Because of this, I have left behind all my notes in the hopes that someone will prosper from my hard work.**

**I will thank you in advance for taking care of my property and hope that you will leave your own student trunk behind so that another will take your work and put it to Good Use.**

**Always yours,**

**Merwyn Fenlock, Head of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Fenlock.**

**P.S. As a last bit of wisdom remember the words my mentor told me, "No matter the Cause, Fenlock, those who kill and torture and use the Dark to get their way are those who should be put down like the rabid beasts they are. I do not care if their blood is as pure as moonlight or one of those wretched Squibs. Those who kill to make their point are not worthy of their life. Remember these words well, Fenlock, and you'll lead a Good Life." I would now ask that you follow these words as I did.**

Harry blinked at the note. Merwyn Fenlock seemed oddly familiar to him but that wasn't what caught his attention. This man, this Fenlock person, had given Harry what sounded like a treasure trove of information. After all, if Snape – who's first love had been potions – had invented spells that had been incredibly handy then what had this person, who had apparently dedicated his life to spell creation, invented?

Harry opened the hidden compartment; the lock was 'hidden' under a simply notice-me-not spell and was on the lip of the trunk in a groove craved out for it. This compartment was empty but Harry knew there was a small panel that pulled out which hid the other last compartment. It wasn't hidden behind any spells, just simple Muggle misdirection which most wizards would never look for.

Harry finally took out one of the books, there were numbers to make it easier on the reader.

**Dear Reader,**

**If you've found my trunk then, if the spells I invented work correctly, you are a Good Person and in great need of some help. Help of the Defensive kind. I do hope that, whatever you're looking for, my spells help and that whatever you're doing is for the Greater Good. Please help yourself to my knowledge.**

**Always yours,**

**Merwyn Fenlock, Head of The Noble and Most Ancient House of Fenlock.**

**The First Rule of Combat to remember when thinking of becoming a Dueler, dear reader, is that shielding isn't needed if you are quick enough. Most Wizards, to my great shame, ignore physical activity and would prefer to waste time and energy hiding behind a shield spell. This is not only an awful idea but it limits what you can do to your enemies. Shield spells take your wand to cast, unless you are a Wandless magic user of the Greatest Caliber and I've never met one who could do more than call their wand to them and levitate objects in the air. As I was saying shielding is only truly necessary when Defending another person. If you're not, then you need to learn to move. Only when you learn to duck, dodge and roll around on the floor will you be able to truly master Dueling.**

**The Second Rule of Combat to remember is to keep it simple. If you're going for quick lightening strikes or slower more powerful spells, keep it as simple as possible. Why use Avada Kedavra to kill a person when a simple Diffindo to a vital area will work just as well and takes a tenth of the power requirements?**

**The Third Rule of Combat to remember is using other languages is perfectly acceptable. Latin and Greek are not the only languages spells are created using. Why use Stupefy when Necio works just as well and rolls off the tongue better? Simple. Clean. Easy.**

**The Fourth Rule is know your enemy. Try to neither over or underestimate your foe. Remember the old saying "A pebble thrown by a peasant can bring down even the mightiest of kings if the peasant's aim is better than the king's guard." **

**The most important Rule to remember is to know yourself. Know what you can and cannot do.**

"Potter turn off the damn light!" Kevin snarled. Harry resisted, barely, the urge to roll his eyes but with a glance up at the clock to see it was nearly two in the morning he could, kind of, understand where his roommates were coming from.

Harry carefully set the book back into the trunk and closed the lid before replacing the panel. No point in allowing his secrets to get out through carelessness, after all. Harry blew out the candle and lay his head down. _I need to look Merwyn Fenlock up. That name sounds so familiar,_ was the last thought he remembered having before falling into a deep sleep.

* * *

**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added: July 31, 2008**


	7. Chapter 12: Learning Curve

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl and Liljean15690

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Several people wanted me to explain the class schedule so, against my better judgment, I've added that at the beginning. And before I get people telling me that the schedule is unbelievable I know that. So is Rowlings. I figure if Hermione can get a Time-Turner for class then the teachers can get them for teaching.

And I have a question, for those who leave signed reviews do you actually get the replies I make or should I not waste my time writing them?

Everyone thank Blueowl for the Professor's look outlook on things in this chapter. She thought they were needed and what she thinks I bow to.

* * *

**Chapter 12**

**Learning Curve**

After finding the trunk and looking up who Merwyn Fenlock was – he was later known as Merwyn the Malicious for making up most of the common curses and jinxes that were used by people, as the Wizarding World conveniently forgot the fact that the man created them to fight a war – Harry spent the next month learning everything he could in the books, and shoving from his mind his little breakdown after Halloween. Harry's day went a little like this: get up, do exercises, run around the lake for an hour, get showered and dressed, go to the Great Hall and eat, then to the Library for a bit of studying before going to class – his new Time-Turner came in handy a great deal for getting extra time in for studying. Breakfast started at 7:30 and lasted until 8:30 for those who didn't have a first period, lunch was from 12 to 2 and dinner was from 4:30 to 6. Curfew was at seven for the first and second years.

On Mondays he had Potions with the Hufflepuffs first thing in the morning then Transfiguration with the Gryffindors. Then lunch, after which Harry holed himself up in the Library where he stayed until dinner, he ate at 5:30. After that, he went back to the Library until seven when curfew for the first and second years started.

Tuesdays he had Herbology then Defense, both with the Hufflepuffs. Harry wouldn't mind being so close to Voldemort, after all the man was pretty helpless, if he wasn't so sensitive to the thing. He always had a Voldemort induced headache after Defense which lasted the rest of the day, he was sure it was because he was so much more sensitive to Voldemort than he had been Before. After lunch, he had Charms with the Slytherins where Harry always sat in the very back of the class and was always the first one out so he didn't chance a confrontation with Malfoy, who it was rumored was trying to talk to him but could never get near him.

Wednesday was homework sessions with Astray then Potions with the Hufflepuffs, lunch and History with the Gryffindors. Thursday was once again Charms with the Slytherins, then Herbology, lunch and Defense. Fridays started with History and Transfiguration with the Gryffindors then lunch, tutoring with Astray and dinner. After dinner was the library, curfew, and from 9:30 to 10 was Astronomy with the Slytherins.

By the time Ravenclaw Tower was rebuilt, which had to be from the ground up, so to speak, most of them had gotten used to only sharing a room with one other person and had done everything in their power – which was considerable since most of them had well-to-do parents – to keep that arrangement. After all, you could do so much more studying if you had your own space, and you were in a better mood if you weren't cramped, let's forget that the size of the dormitory rooms were about the size of a regular sized classroom. Dumbledore, with the Board's backing, had approved the change so everyone from third year and up had their own rooms, large enough for a good-sized desk, a double bed, a wardrobe and three bookcases, and first and second years only had to share a room with one person. Harry was sharing with Anthony Goldstein, who was an alright bloke, though rather surly most of the time.

The double rooms were just that. Large double rooms big enough to hold two single beds, both trunks, two wardrobes and a bookcase for each of them. No desks for the first and second years, apparently. Through the rooms were large enough to make into two separate rooms if a person knew the correct spells, which Harry did, with a small walkway leading to the door outside. Harry was quite happy having his own space and Anthony Goldstein, a quiet rather private person, was more than happy with the arrangement, even if it did result in a smaller room. Harry hadn't known Anthony that well the first time but knew the other boy had fought in the war along side the Order, which made him alright in Harry's book.

Harry stretched out on his bed and opened Merwyn's book. When the lunch bell rang, Harry sighed and closed his book, shoving it in his bag – which he always kept with him – and got up to leave the room, meeting Anthony in the small space between their rooms and the rest of the Tower. "All right, Anthony?"

Anthony nodded in reply then raise a brow, a question on his face, causing him to nod back. _A full conversation is a good place to start,_ Harry thought, satisfied as he made his way out the door and down the stairs to the Common Room. The two of them joined the other Ravens as they made their way to the Great Hall.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

"Harry, can I have a word with you?" Hermione asked the Friday before Winter Holiday as he was packing up his things from Transfiguration.

"Go ahead," Harry said cautiously. He'd known that Hermione was still irritated that he was taking an extra class and she was still having problems navigating the ever changing hallways.

"I understand that you're taking extra classes and I'll be the first one to say that makes me jealous but...but Neville and I need help."

"Help?" Harry asked blankly. Neville, he knew, needed all the help he could get but Hermione had always seemed basically competent.

"Neville had a...problem with his magic."

"I had heard rumors." Harry glanced up at the chubby boy who was squirming nervously four steps away from Hermione. "You magic was blocked, correct?"

"Y-yes," Neville said, staring at him amazed.

"My magic had problems as well. From the Curse. It took nearly a month for it to work correctly afterwards," Harry said. Harry sighed at their questioning looks. _Try to help a bloke out and they want to know everything about it._ "I found out my magic was blocked during the summer and unblocked it."

"Is…is there anything I can do to make it go faster? I don't...I don't like being like this."

"You can exercise," Harry said after a moment. "The fitter your body is the better your magic. It's like those Muggle sayings they always have at school: A healthy mind is as important as a healthy body. Or whatever it is. Being overweight, underweight, sick or anything else affects your magic as much as not knowing spells."

"So...so I just start exercising and I'll be better fast?"

"Potentially," Harry said with a nod. "If you'd like to join me, I run every morning from five on. You can join me anytime you wish."

"Do you know how to fight? Muggle style I mean."

"I know enough," Harry said with a shrug.

"Fighting's dangerous!" Hermione said.

"So is going to a school where with a flick of a person's wand can get you thrown down the steps or have you beheaded."

Hermione turned green but Neville didn't twitch. "Is there anything else you need?" Harry asked, impatient to get to lunch and get on with his studying.

"Will you tutor us?" Hermione asked, causing Harry to freeze in shock.

"Excuse me?"

"It's just...well you know so much about magic and I bet you're really good at Defense and..."

"Quirrell stutters more than I do, and I can't understand him at all," Neville said. "And according to the older students, we should've been taught several spells already."

"So you want me to tutor you in Defense?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Hermione said, staring at him. "I can learn spells, but without structure I won't know if I'm learning what I should be learning, or if I'm doing it correctly."

Harry ran a hand through his hair. "Do you want this to be an every week thing or just a 'when we feel we need it'? I'm not in the habit of wasting my time and I won't do it if you're not going to take it seriously."

"We will," Neville said. "I don't want to be a loser any more. I want to be strong and make my parents proud of me."

Harry froze and gave Neville a long, measuring look. He understood that. Making his parents proud had been what drove him since he found out about them. "Very well, the only Free we have together is Wednesday morning and I'm busy then. I can give you all weekend, but my weeks are filled."

"That's fine, this weekend?"

"Right, what time? I don't have obligations except Sunday evenings so any time is good for me."

"Saturday mornings? Say from breakfast to lunch. We can learn the spell, then you can do your studying or-"

"Is it just going to be the two of you or do you want to invite your friends?" Harry broke in, causing the two of them to shift.

"Would it be alright if we invited our year mates? And maybe the Hufflepuffs?"

"I'll have to get permission from Dumbledore if we're going to invite too many people," Harry said. "I'll take care of it this afternoon."

"Thank you, Harry, you won't regret it!" Hermione said, giving him a large smile.

Harry sighed as he made his way to the Staff Room. He knew Dumbledore was always there right before lunch every day so that his professors could speak to him without making the journey to his office. He knocked on the door and blinked when he saw Flitwick. "Er...is the Headmaster in?"

"Yes. Come in, Harry."

Harry nodded and entered the room, looking for the Headmaster and was surprised when he saw most of the professors in the room. "Friday Staff Lunch." Flitwick said with a grin.

"Right, Headmaster?"

"Ah, Harry, my boy. What can I do for you today?"

"Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, both of Gryffindor, approached me after Transfiguration today. They asked if I would be willing to tutor them in any subject that they are having problems." Harry's disgusted glance at the Quirrell's back made it clear who he was mainly talking about. "I agreed to tutor them. Then it was stated that perhaps their Gryffindor year mates might need help as well. Then the Hufflepuff."

"No Slytherin? Or Ravenclaws?"

"I fully expect my fellow Ravenclaws to have learned their books by now and the Slytherins have tutoring in place from the older years from the minute they get sorted," Harry said, giving Snape a telling look. "The problem, as I see it, is that we don't have access to a room large enough to host all the students, and be able to practice spells."

"Ah yes, I see." Dumbledore said and thought for a moment. "You won't be excluding the Ravenclaws or the Slytherins?"

"If they're polite and wish to come they're more than welcome to. Expect Malfoy." Harry said and making a face. "I've heard rumors he wants to talk to me and if he's anything like his father I'd rather have nothing to do with him."

"You mean a Death Eater?"

"Oh no. If I didn't want to be near Death Eaters or those who associate with them I never would've come to Hogwarts." Harry said. "I meant his...unnatural interest in small boys."

Dumbledore gaped at him and Harry could hear a glass break, probably because it fell out of someone's hands. "Where...did you hear such a rumor?"

"I didn't," Harry said. "However, I saw the way the man was staring at him at the Train Station so looked up his arrest record in the Library. He was charged with three counts of rape and all three counts were of boys under the age of thirteen."

"I...see," Dumbledore said. "I'd forgotten that the Library held those records."

"Not going to make them disappear, are you Headmaster?" Harry asked, giving the man a searching glance. "I don't imagine you'd like the students looking into those."

"I don't," Dumbledore said. "But they are there for a reason. I can't imagine why you would want to look through those old records."

"To see who I need to watch out for. After all, you told Petunia that you left me in her care to protect me from my parents' enemies. It didn't take a genius to figure out that you placed me there for my safety, such as it was. It's better to know your enemies than to go into a situation blind."

"You think you have enemies?"

"I'm sure of it. If I was three steps from taking over England and some snot nosed little brat took it away from me, I'd be after his head."

"You want to rule England, then?" Dumbledore asked.

"Good god, no!" Harry said. "Do you have any idea how much paperwork that would entitle? Unless I was a Dark Lord and force someone else to take care of it," Harry said thoughtfully. "Can you be a Dark Lord without all the killing and torturing and whatnot?"

"That's generally the only way to get the title." Dumbledore said, his eyes laughing.

"Well then, I'm afraid I'll pass on the whole world domination thing. I want to pass school, get married, have enough kids to make a Quidditch team, teach them the best way to torture Hogwarts' Professor and not get caught, then maybe raise some strange animal on the side."

"That's a modest goal. Just children?"

"Is there any better goal out there than to have the love of a family? I've never seen one," Harry said with a shrug then decided to get the subject back on topic. "So is there a classroom that I can take over without bothering anyone?"

"Ah yes. My old classroom in fact. It's on the fourth floor and is rather large, seeing as we used to teach all four Houses in one class. I can have the House-elves clean it."

"Don't bother. I will. Good day, Professors. Professor Astray, I'm going to have to ask if I can cancel our lesson today."

"Of course! It's so nice to see you mingling with your peers!"

"There will be no mingling, woman!"

"Of course there will be!" Emilia said with a grin. "In order to tutor, you have to mingle!"

"I can still be aloof and keep the incompetent morons away from me!" Harry said, glaring at her. "After all, just because no one's ever proved that stupidity isn't contagious doesn't mean it's not!"

"Pfft!" Emilia said. "You're just a cold fish who can't stand to have human contact!"

"And _you're_ a domineering, hyperactive, overemotional mess!"

They both glared at each other, ignoring the shocked looks they were getting from the other professors before Emilia cracked a grin. "Come're and give us a hug!" she said, standing up with her arms stretch out. Harry gave her his most fierce glare and then darted out of the room. The last time Emilia had tried to hug him he'd nearly been suffocated in her rather large bust.

_SsSsSsSsSsSsSsS_

After Harry left the Staff Room, the other teachers just sat there, some shocked, some appalled, and some just amused at their little exchange. "Emilia, you can't treat or allow a student to treat you that way!" Minerva said, she was of the shocked _and_ appalled group.

"Why not? We'll never be in a real student/teacher relationship."

"Because it's not proper!" Minerva's voice was just below shriek level.

"Is there a reason you allow such an informal relationship between the two of you?" Albus asked.

"Emilia, you told us you both joked around and teased each other, but that was boarding on flat out disrespect," Pomona said.

"Have you ever seen Harry having a conversation with another student? Because I haven't. He doesn't talk to anyone else, he isn't going to try out for the Quidditch team, he isn't joining any of the student clubs, and he has no friends," Emilia said, her face showing more seriousness than they'd seen from her before. "Harry's very much a loner, most likely from his abuse, despite actually being a social person, but he's shut himself off from people. It's taken me this long just to get him to open up enough that he'll tease me back. It's not healthy to be so closed up, so I allowed our relationship to develop into a more friend based one where I just happen to be a professor and teach him things."

"Has he told you anything about his abuse?" Albus asked suddenly, his eyes sharp.

"I know he lived in the cupboard under the stairs and that they kept him isolated by allowing their son to bully anyone that showed Harry any friendliness at all. It must be quite a shock to Harry to go from completely alone and ignored to so famous people follow him around in the halls."

"Oh, the little brat laps it up," Severus sneered. Emilia blinked at the man then shook her head.

"If you think he laps it up, you're seriously blind or have let your potions rot that supposed brilliant brain of yours. I don't know what you have against Potter, and frankly I don't care, but you're the one acting like a 'little brat', not him."

"How dare you speak to me that way? I am a Senior Professor and a Head of House and you have no right-"

"No you're the one that doesn't have any right!" Emilia shouted jumping to her feet. "The _only_ reason your Head of Slytherins is because no one else is stupid enough to take the job! You let your hatred of James Potter get in the way of your teaching. You let what happened to you _twenty_ years ago get in the way of no and treat every House but Slytherin like their something you scrapped off the bottom of your shoe! You act more like a hormonal teenager than most of the students in this school! You're a disgrace-"

"You insolent little child-"

"Emilia, Severus that is **quite** enough," Albus' voice wasn't raised but it had more effect than a cannon going off. Both professors fell back into their chairs and glared at each other. "Severus, Emilia is correct, you need to let go of old grudges and move on with your life. Emilia," Albus sighed. "Despite rumors to the contrary Severus is an excellent professor."

"Yeah if you can get past his absolute hatred of the students and his abrasive personality."

"That's enough. Severus if I hear you've treated Harry any different than your other students we'll speak in my office. Emilia I think you should calm down and have some tea."

Emilia took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she poured herself some tea. Severus smirked at her as he leaned back in his chair.

_Stubborn, foolish man._

SsSsSsSsSsSsSsS

Harry went down to Lunch, ate as quickly as he could, then disappeared into the Library where he went into the Hogwarts archives. Harry knew, from conversations with Hermione over the course of their Hogwarts' careers that all Professors were required to submit their end of term exams to help future students. The OWLs and NEWTs were submitted every ten years – when they drew up new tests – to give students an idea of what they needed to know on the exams. If the fifth and seventh years were half as clever as they thought they were (he was including himself in this) they would've looked over the old exams and found out what they all had in common and learned that and whatever else the teachers threw at them.

Harry accessed all the first year exams going back to Dumbledore's first year and found the common links. There were seven spells they were supposed to know by the end of the year, according to all the exams before Voldemort's curse took place: Jelly-Legs Jinx, Trip Jinx, Babbling Curse, Jelly-Fingers curse, Leg-Locker Curse, Sponge-Knees Curse, Stinging Hex. None of the curses or jinxes would hurt a person, who was prepared for them, but they could take out an unprepared wizard just as easily as some of the stronger curses. Harry hadn't known some of them so he learned them from the smallest wand movements up to where exactly the accents on the spells needed to be.

Harry wrote down what he was sure would be asked of him, copied all the notes he'd taken down with a spell that used the standardized text for books, and bound it all and made what he thought to be enough copies. He grabbed a few basic books that dealt with Defense – books past teachers had had their students use – and decided he was done. _It's a good thing I'm doing this,_ Harry thought as he looked over the work he'd done. _Thanks to Quirrell, Lockhart, and Umbridge, we barely learned anything about defending ourselves. Voldemort was more clever than he thought when he cursed the Defense position or perhaps he meant to do precisely what his curse is doing. After all, the younger generations not knowing how to defend themselves just made it easier for him to take over._

Harry shook his head and moved back into the stacks of books to choose his next one.

That night at dinner, Harry told Hermione that it was a go ahead and gave her the classroom number, 436, and then told her she could invite anyone she wanted as long as they were first years. After dinner, he nipped down to the kitchens to ask one of the House-elves if they wouldn't mind cleaning out room 436 for tomorrow morning. After assuring them he had permission and telling them what it was for, they were delighted to do as he asked and promised it would be done.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

The next morning, Harry had eaten breakfast as quickly as he could, which meant grabbing two slices of toast with strawberry jam, making it a sandwich, an apple and an orange, before moving toward classroom 436 to see what needed to be done with it.

He stepped into the room and let out a whistle. The room was large enough for a very large group of students to hang out in, and three walls were lined with all kinds of cool and interesting objects. He ignored them and looked at the books that lined the shelves. Several of them were about Defense but even more were on Charms, Transfiguration, Potions and even Astronomy. _Why in the world would we have Astronomy in the middle of the..._ Harry had finally glanced up and looked at the ceiling, which was charmed like the Great Hall.

"Wispy." Harry called out for the House-elf he'd spoken to the night before.

"Harry Potter sir, calls?" Wispy said as she appeared in front of him.

"Yes...er what's with the ceiling?"

"Oh! Headmaster Dumbly-dore sir dones it!" Wispy said, clapping her hands. "Says that students should learn outside of nighttime yous should! Can call out stars and show whole sky!"

"Can I?" he asked, blinking. She nodded her head causing Harry to fear it would fall right off her shoulders. "Andromeda." The ceiling shimmered before changing to the Andromeda constellation.

"Harry Potter sir, can go in and out! And in and in and out and out and out." Wispy said, her voice going to a level of shriek Harry had never heard outside of a three year old on a sugar high.

Harry blinked at her before what she said settled in his mind. _In and out, in and in out and out and out? What the hell? Does she mean zoom in and out?_ "How do I get it to do that?"

"Harry Potter sir says Zoom and in or out," Wispy said.

"Anything else I should know, Wispy?"

"Harry Potter sir needs password to get in and out!" Wispy said and snapped her fingers. "Harry Potter sir says password!"

"Er...Grim Dawn," Harry said with a shrug.

"Good good! Now only Harry Potter sir can get in! Headmaster Dumbly-dore sir says good idea!"

"Well thank you, Wispy. I really appreciate everything you – and the others – did."

"Wes being happy to, Harry Potter sir!" Wispy said with a bow before disappearing with a quiet pop.

Harry looked around and took in everything in the room. Toward the front, where the professor would usually stand, was a board where he could write things out to explain it better to his...students? Well, whatever they would be called, he had everything he needed to make sure they learned Defense. "Potter, are you there?"

Harry moved toward the door to open it. He saw all of the Gryffindor first years standing there. He blinked and stepped back to allow them to enter.

"We'll give it twenty minutes to make sure everyone who is going to has the time to show up," Harry said. "In the meantime, go ahead and talk among yourselves."

The Hufflepuffs appeared in groups of two before the time ended. Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, Lisa Turpin, Mandy Brockelhurst, Morag Macdougal, and Su Li, appeared just before he shut the door. "All right. So this is how it's going to be. This is a tutoring session for those of you who want to learn Defense and not that crap Quirrell is trying to pass off as Defense. If you're here for any reason other than that then you can leave now. I will not put up with you goofing off and messing up the sessions for everyone else. There will be homework that is completely optional. However, if you don't do it and fall behind because you didn't then don't come back. I won't help you if you're not willing to put in the required work. I have better things to do than waste my time. However, if you do all the homework and work during these sessions and are still behind, I will set aside extra time to help you. I'm not a very nice person, I will be the first to admit that, but I'm not a complete cad either. Any questions? Hands. I won't have chaos or unnecessary noise. Zacharia Smith."

"What makes you think you're good enough to tutor _us_?" he asked, eyes narrowed.

"I didn't make you come. Two people approached me and asked if I would be willing to tutor them. I said yes, they asked if they could invite others. I didn't want to do it because I have other things I'd rather be doing. However, Quirrell as a professor is **rubbish**. If you don't want to learn what I have to teach you, then you can leave. I _certainly_ won't stop you. In fact, please do. It'll be less work for me."

"But what makes you think you can teach us?"

"For one, I've memorized lessons from the first three years. Have you? I also know Muggle, yes Muggle, self-defense. I'm a brown belt in karate." That wasn't a lie, really, since the first time he'd been a brown belt. He just had to get back into shape now. "I've also put a good deal of work into planning what to teach you. If you don't want to learn, that's your problem. Not mine. Next question...Padma's twin."

"What are you going to teach us?"

"Anything you want to know," Harry said with a shrug. "I can teach you dueling and combat. I can teach you the best way to throw a male who's bigger than you who gets...a little fresh. I can teach you defensive spells that'll hold off everything up to the Unforgivables, or I can teach you to become invisible so you can run away."

"Run away?" Ron Weasley laughed. "Why would you want to run away?"

"So you can defeat a full grown adult wizard with forty more years of experience than you, Weasley? If so, then you clearly don't need these sessions, you're wasting my time so I kindly ask you to leave."

"Wha-no, I can't! It's just-"

"Sometimes retreat is the better part of valor, Weasley. You have to learn to pick your battles. Next...Hannah."

"I don't ever plan to fight anyone. I'm going to be a Herbologist. But I would like to know how to defend myself. Can you teach us what to do if we find ourselves in a situation that requires us to fight?"

"I will be doing that, Hannah. What I think you really need, though, is shield spells and a way to escape. I'll be teaching you that later if you stick with the class. Now. Those of you who want to learn physical self-defense has the option of getting your arse out of bed at five-thirty every morning to run with me.

"When I get you in shape, I'll teach you different moves to fight with. It is nine right now. This session ends at noon. That means I only have three hours to teach you want needs to be done. To start with, I don't know if you all covered this in any of your other classes but you need to know this. There are three categories that spells fall into when considering – Granger, I have this all written down and will pass out notes at the end. Just listen for now."

Hermione blushed bright red before she put her quill down and turned her attention completely to Harry.

"As I was saying, there are three categories that spells fall into when considering the cause of a spell. The first and generally easiest spells to cast are the ones that always have a fixed result. What I mean by that is if you cast _Lumos_," Harry did so while pointing his wand at the blackboard. "You will always – no matter how much power you put behind it – end up with a beam of light three feet in diameter and 60 watts. You cannot make it smaller, larger, brighter or dimmer. It is what it is." Harry canceled the spell. "Does everyone understand that?"

Harry waited for questions but there were none and brushing his Legilimency against Neville and Wayne Hopkins, both of who were notoriously slow, found that they both understood.

"The second classification is rather tricky to tell if it is a class one or two. It produces the same results but some objects take more or less power to effect. Say for example the color changing spell." Harry took out his wand and tapped the blackboard changing the color to bright orange then he bent and tapped the floor, also changing its color to purple. "It takes more power to change the floor than it does to change the blackboard but the spell still produces the same results. Questions? Lisa."

"How do you know whether the spell falls under the first or second class?"

"You use it or look it up," Harry said. "Really, you can't tell just by its name or anything like that. Questions? Longbottom."

"So just to make sure I understand. The first class won't change no matter how much power I put into it." Harry nodded. "The second might require more or less power depending on what you're doing but the end results will always be the same… if you do it correctly, right?" Harry nodded again. "Well, alright then."

"The third classification is the hardest to control," Harry said. "It will change depending on how much power you throw in. Too little and nothing will happen, too much and you could seriously hurt yourself or someone else. For example, the common fire spell. Anyone know the incantation? Brown."

"_Incendio_." She said.

"Correct." Harry tapped the floor and the shield sprang up. "Watch carefully. _Incendio_," he said, putting just enough power behind it to light a fire in the the fireplace. "Because _Incendio_ works off magic, it doesn't need wood. However, it will go out depending on how much power you threw into it." The fire in the grate went out. "There are also other uses for the spell." Harry said turning back toward his peers. "You can put enough power in it to burn a house down. Or a forest. Or a person," Harry said and looked at them for a moment before turning back to the shielded side of the room.

"_Incendio."_

He put a good deal more power behind it, causing a large fireball to appear. The two chairs against the wall where the fire hit were gone, but the chair halfway between the wall and the shield burst into fire on its own. Two more chairs, these set almost right up against the shield, shook and then were pulled into the flames.

Harry turned back toward his audience and looked at them. Everyone was pale. "As you can see, _Incendio_ can do a great deal of harm. It will burn until the magic that created it is gone. There is _no_ countercurse for it. You can't grab a bit of water and hope to put it out. You can't smother it. Any questions?"

"What happened there?" Lavender Brown demanded. "Why did that chair burst into fire? And those other chairs _moved toward it_!"

"Anyone? Granger."

"The vacuum effect, right? The chair burst into flames because the air was so hot it couldn't do anything else. And the others moved toward the flames because the flames created a vacuum effect and sucked everything into it."

"That's right. A little simplified but correct," Harry said with a nod. "When casting spells with a great deal of power behind them, you have to understand everything that comes with it. It's not just... 'wow, cool, I can create a huge fireball!' It's 'if I do create the huge fireball first, is anyone or anything going to get hurt?' Magic is a great responsibility, ladies and gentlemen. Something that a lot of people forget. As you can see by the fact that the fire is already out, I didn't put a lot of power behind the spell. All I did was make it incredibly hot and let it take care of itself."

Harry was silent for a moment to let everyone absorb what he was saying. He turned to the board and wrote on it. _Jelly-Legs Jinx, Trip Jinx, Babbling Curse, Jelly-Fingers Curse, Leg-Locker Curse, Sponge-Knees Curse, Stinging Hex._ "Who here has ever heard of any of these curses? Hands. Neville."

"The Stinging Hex. Most parents use it to discipline their children."

"Good. If I was capable of giving points that'd be five," Harry said with a nod. "The Stinging Hex is just that. It gives a brief sensation of pain in a localized manner. For those muggleborns or raised out there: think of when you were younger and got your hand slapped. That's what it feels like. It is of the Second Class. The more power you put into it, the more it hurts. There was one report of a mother putting so much power in it that she destroyed all the nerves in her child's arm." He ignored the gasps and continued. "Hopkins."

"Jelly-Fingers Curse," he said. "It makes you drop things."

"Yes. Of the First Class, Jelly-Fingers makes your brain think that your bones are gone which makes it so you can't hold a wand or pretty much anything else." Harry nodded. "It can, however, be fought with enough concentration and be overcome. Thomas."

"Sponge-Knees Curse," Dean said. "It makes it feel like your knees aren't there."

"Exactly," Harry said with a nod. "It's hard to do anything when you can't even crawl away because your knees don't work. As with the Jelly-Fingers Curse, it can be overcome if your will is strong enough but it is rather hard. It too is a First Class. Su."

"The Leg-Locker is a curse that freezes all the muscles in your legs so you can't move them. They become hard as stone, or so I've read."

"Very good. The Leg-Locker Curse has _never_ been overcome. It's a First Class spell as well. It literally freezes all your muscles in whatever position they were in. You will _not_ be able to move your legs until the counter curse is done. Weasley."

"Er...the Babbling Curse?"

"And it does what?"

"Makes you...er...babble I guess. You speak nonsense."

"Very good. This is a Third Class spell. It is very simple to do and the reason it is taught to first years is because most first years can't do more than make a person babble for a few seconds. This is also known as a Mind Effects spell, which is generally restricted material. What this means is, beside this specific curse, using them outside of Ministry control is forbidden and could earn you up to three years in Azkaban, depending on the seriousness of your crime. This spell doesn't just make you babble. If you get enough power into it, it can force it so your mind can't concentration on anything. Using this on one of your peers is a no questions asked month detention, usually with Professor Snape or Filch so I wouldn't use it unless you feel your life is in danger. Unless the person gives you permissions to do so. Granger, the next one please."

"The Trip Jinx. It's a relatively simple spell that causes a person's feet to stick to the ground for a split moment."

"Which is more than enough for them to go arse over kettle if they're moving quickly," Harry said. "It is a Third Class spell as well. The more power you put into it, the more ground it can effect. Padma."

"Jelly-Legs is a jinx, not a curse, because it just makes you lose your balance for a moment."

"Yes, and it's a First Class. Quickly, who can tell me the difference between a curse, a hex, and a jinx? Anthony?"

"A jinx is a spell that has a time limit on it. A curse has to be canceled and a hex is meant purely to cause physical pain. Though most people use all three words for any spell they feel like."

"Correct."

"But how can we defend ourselves using _those_?"

"Smith, you need to learn to raise your hand. For that, you get to be the first example." Harry said and smile. "Come on down."

Smith sneered at him. "My father has already taught me these spells and a shield spell."

"Congratulations. Feel free to use them," Harry said as he pulled out his wand. "Padma, would you do the honors?"

Padma stood up and stood between the two of them. "Wands at the ready." They both got into position "Three...two...one!" She jumped back and looked rapidly between the two boys, but was disappointed when Smith got off the first spell.

"Sloppy, Smith, very sloppy," Harry said as he stepped to the side. "My turn."

Harry started with the Jelly-Fingers Curse, followed up with the Leg-Locker Curse and ended with a Stinging Hex. Smith was sitting on the floor staring at him with wide eyes. "Now, as you can see, the Jelly-Fingers Curse made him drop his wand, the Leg-Locker Curse made him fall over, something that is quite common really, and the Stinging Hex well that wasn't necessary really, he just really annoys me."

"Cancel the curses, Potter!" Smith snarled. "You couldn't fight a real wizard using those spells, Potter." Smith said as he stood up.

"Smith, you can leave anytime you want. No one's forcing you to be here," Harry said. "In fact, you can leave now. I'm not here to prove myself to you. I was asked to do this by two people I respect. I do not respect you."

Smith turned bright red before storming out of the room. "Now, the reason these spells are all taught in first year is because they are easy to do and if you use them correctly they can bring down a full grown wizard. If you catch them off guard that is," Harry said.

"Padma, since you're up, would you mind giving everyone one of these?" Harry handed her the papers he'd written the notes on. "These are for your personal use. The books at the bottom are references that Defense professors in the past years have used that I found helpful. There are three copies of each book for each house. That should be enough for everyone to be able to do the reading you need. Granger, I know you and I suggest you take the books last so everyone else gets their reading done," Harry said. "Now we have an hour. If you wish to leave early, your homework will be to read the first chapter of each of the three books and to learn the Stinging Hex. Those of you that are staying, we'll practice the Stinging Hex now. Hufflepuffs down here, please. The rest of you can go to the shelves and grab the books. Each table is silenced and has a shield around it, so those of you who wish to may work on homework or you can each read aloud out of the book. It doesn't matter to me."

Harry waited until everyone was settled and the Hufflepuffs were hovering around him. "All right, the wand movements are so." A quick right slash followed by a jab. "Do you want to practice on each other?"

"No!" Hannah said.

"Don't worry, I was only joking," Harry said and moved to the front of the room and showed them the plate hanging on the wall. "This is a spell detector. It will tell you if your spell is working and give you a general feel for how much power you're putting behind it..."

Harry spent the next hour teaching everyone to cast the Stinging Hex. For those like Neville and Hopkins, who just couldn't get the spell, he offered them more help after lunch.

Harry left the room after everyone else, having cleaned up and made sure everything was in order, and found that word of his tutoring session must have spread because people were whispering about him even more than before. _Damn, and they just barely got over the Halloween Incident._ Harry sighed and ignored the whispers that followed him, thinking that at least the students thought he did a good job of it. _I'm going to regret taking on teaching them all, I can feel it._

_SsSsSsSsSsSsSsS_

All of the Professors who were interested were gathered inside the Staff Room to watch Harry Potter's tutoring session through monitors Albus had put in the ceiling. After the boy ended the session, they sat around and talked about him… well, gossiped really — but they were adults and didn't do something as crass as _gossip_.

"There weren't any Slytherins," Pomona pointed out thoughtfully.

"No, they wouldn't have shown up," Severus shook his head. "Not in a room with Gryffindors if they didn't have to be."

"I thought it went rather swimmingly," Emilia said cheerfully.

"I agree," Albus nodded. "He was a little harsh with Mr. Smith, but I can't see Harry as being a very patient person."

"Neither can I. And Smith was asking for it," Minerva said. "Not that Harry couldn't have handled it better."

"He really went rather in depth, didn't he?" Filius' pride in Harry was clear to everyone.

"He did. He's a boon to your House, Filius," Minerva smiled at the Charms Professor.

"I didn't even know some of the stuff he talked about," Charity Burbage said.

"That's because you were in Defense after... the problems started. The category system is always explained in Defense," Albus quietly pointed out. "Things were different before the fifties."

"I've been teaching it in Charms lately, Albus. It's why we don't get to casting the actual spells until after Halloween."

"Ah yes, forgive me, Filius, in my old age I tend to forget such things," Albus said with a smile to the shorter man.

"His demonstrations were impressive," Lara Vector said smiling. "I rather liked the fire one myself."

"It was dangerous!" Minerva said.

"He tested the shield before he cast the spell. And Wispy told him that Albus did the spells. It was almost perfectly safe," Filius jumped in, as quick as always to defend his students.

Albus nodded. "I'll speak to him about such demonstrations. For now though, we need to vote on whether to allow the tutoring to continue."

"As long as someone's here to monitor the class, I say 'aye'," Minerva said.

"Same as all the other clubs. Saturday is when a lot of them go on so someone's usually here," Pomona said with a cheerful smile.

"Voting."

Only Severus voted 'nay'.

* * *

**A/N:** I don't usually answer reviews in the story but I feel I have to clear a few things up.

First off Harry is _not_ skipping Defense Against the Dark Arts, he goes to every single class and he watches Q-mort like a hawk. Voldemort hasn't done anything so far other than sit there so Harry's leaving him alone, in this story the bond between himself and Quirrell becomes unstable in the third week of March (which is when, according to the HP Lexicon Hagrid gets his dragon and the whole mess with the detention happens). Several people have questioned why Harry isn't doing anything about Voldemort, my questions: why should he? He know where Voldemort is, he knows what he's doing and no one is being hurt. There is absolutely no reason Harry should do anything at this point because Voldemort is keeping low and doing nothing but building his power.

Secondly my explanation of Harry, since I keep getting Private Messages asking me. I don't make a study of people and their minds but this is what I think would happen to him. First Harry was a little boy who spent nine years in a cupboard being told that anything 'freakish' that happened around the Dursleys was his fault, I really wouldn't be surprised if they blamed 'normal' happenings on him as well. He was bullied by his cousin, his uncle and his aunt and they made it very, very clear that they didn't want him there even if they didn't physically abuse him. So he goes from one extreme, being basically ignored unless something happened, to being basically worshiped by people he never even knew existed. He just gets used to that when he and his friends lose hundred and fifty points and it all gets blamed on him. Harry goes through these periods where he's a hero or a villain then gets thrown into a war not of his making but which he's expected to fix. His friends either hide from the horrors of war in books and research (Hermione) or try to take more credit than they're due and lap up their Hero Status (Ron). So his friends abandon him and he's left to face horrors that no one should ever face. Harry becomes a recluse, he doesn't deal with any of the emotions he feels and instead throws himself into the war. I'll be going into that more and more as time goes on but just know that Harry was the Top Dog. Death Eaters were more frightened of him than they ever were of Dumbledore and for good reason.

Where I'm going with this is that Harry isn't anti-social and he doesn't actually want to be alone. He just never learned how to make friends and hasn't dealt with any of the things he did as he fought with Voldemort and the Death Eaters.

And that's when Luna comes in. -- that's not foreshadowing that's telling.

* * *

**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added: **August 10, 2008


	8. Chapter 13: Annoying Irish Wizards

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** I'm sorry for the lack of update on the 20th. I've lost one of my betas (anyone who wants to take up her spot is quite welcome to) and just got confirmation from her that she was leaving us.

Now for the really, really bad news. My mom (who I live with) has several back problems (hence the living with her). On the fourth she is having her back cut open so they can fuse some of her disks. What that means for me is that she won't be able to walk for the next several weeks so I'll have to do nearly everything for her. What this means for you is that the story won't even get to be worked on for at least this month and possibly next month as well. I know this is going to disappoint several people but my mom comes before my writing so I'm not going to apologize. Hopefully I'll have little snatches of time where I can work on it a little and get a chapter up by November.

* * *

**Chapter 13**

**Annoying Irish Wizards**

Harry looked up at Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, and Dumbledore steadily as he once again found himself in the Deputy Headmistress' office without having committed any type of offense. "Mr. Potter, I'm sure you're wondering why we called you here today." McGonagall said, her voice calm as she set out her tin of cookies.

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes," Harry said.

"I know you've been exchanging letters with the Dodderidges," Dumbledore said.

"Yes. Once a week or thereabouts since you put us in contact."

"They sent me a letter yesterday asking if you could come stay with them for the Winter Holiday."

"Stay with them? Why?" Harry asked, genuinely baffled.

"For the holidays, of course."

Harry blinked at them, confused for a moment before he remembered what the Winter Holidays meant. Christmas or Yule. Gift giving and festive joy for all. Unless you were the Younger Harry Potter who'd been locked in the cupboard for Winter Holidays except to cook and clean for the Dursley's, or the Older Harry Potter who was so involved in the War Effort he didn't know what the month was most of the time, let alone actually have time for the giving or receiving of gifts.

"Oh, I see. Well, there's no need. I know the Holidays are a time for family and I wouldn't intrude on their time," Harry said. "So there's no need for me to go anywhere." _Though it would make it easier to get a few things done if I'm not under Albus Dumbledore's overly large nose for the entire holiday._

"Nonsense, my boy, they want you there," Dumbledore said, looking deeply disturbed about something, but Harry couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what. He didn't know it was distressing to the adults surrounding him that he had to really think about why the Winter Holidays was so important that someone would invite him over to join them in the festivities. In all of Albus Dumbledore's hundred and fifty years, he'd never had a child who didn't immediately think 'gifts' when thinking about Winter Holidays.

"That's very kind of them, I'm sure, but I'd rather not intrude on anyone's plans-"

"They've already made plans with you at the center of them," McGonagall cut in quickly.

Harry paused, blinking again. _It would be nice to get to know them in person before I go to live with them permanently. On the chance that there's something really odd about them – or myself – that grates on the nerves of the other party._

"Very well, then. I do want to get to the bookstore again," Harry said.

"I'll send the Dodderidge's a letter, telling them you accept, my boy," Dumbledore said.

"Thank you," Harry said with a smile. "Oh, Headmaster? There's something that's been bothering me. Do you mind if I ask you about it?"

"Of course not."

"In my first Rune class with Professor Astray, she told me that a lot of established rules in Muggle society are just ideas that Squibs took over. Is that true?"

"No," Dumbledore said with a laugh. "That is something we in the know call Ministry Propaganda. One Squib, a Enrico Fermi, took ideas from the Wizarding World to the Muggle World but most of those people are just Muggles. It allows Wizards to feel superior if they believe all of the Muggle fundamental beliefs are based on our culture."

"Oh. It rather bothered me. I'd like to think that not all of what the Muggle World created is built on the back of the Wizarding World."

"You must remember, Harry, that in the not so distant past, the world was just one world and there was no telling who was a wizard and who was a muggle, because it didn't matter."

"Oh, I see," Harry said with a nod. "It's hard to believe that we used to live like that."

"It is rather hard, I admit," Dumbledore said with a wistful look on his face.

"If I may be excused? I had planned out my Winter Holiday and need to revise it," Harry said.

"Of course, my boy," Dumbledore said with an almost unbearable sadness in his eyes as he watched Harry go.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Harry sighed as he stared unseeing at his homework. His head was killing him. He knew Voldemort had taken over Quirrell by the rather painful spike through his scar that led to a general throbbing throughout his head. _Why in the world is Voldemort taking over Quirrell _now_? I know he doesn't start attacking the Unicorns until spring or thereabouts. I hate it when Voldemort's in control of __Quirrell's body. It's a pain in my arse._

Harry fell into a light trance, built up his shields and then exited the 'back door' to his mind that led directly to Voldemort's. He hated using this because it hurt a great deal, and the longer he used the connection the worse the side effects, but it was useful as the Dark Lord didn't have a scar that told him when Harry was in his mind.

At first, Harry couldn't make out the Dark Lord's thoughts, just a general murmur like hearing someone talking when one is underwater. Then it became clearer. **The brat's powerful. How many first years can cause so much damage to a Troll of all things? I'll have to take care of him.** _He's pacing,_ Harry realized as he saw the same thing over and over again. _He must not be able to think very clearly when Quirrell is in charge of the body. Which makes sense when you think about it. After all, both Snape and Dumbledore use passive Legilimency without even realizing it. For Voldemort to hide in the school he'd have to be hidden pretty deep in Quirrell's consciousness. _ _**I have to find a way to strengthen this body without rousing Dumbledore's suspicion. And I have to take care of that damn brat.**_

Harry decided he'd heard enough and went back to his body with a gasp of pain. He was glad he was in his room and no one could see the trail of blood running from his scar. _I'll have to find a way to block this connection when I don't want to use it. Why the hell is it so strong this time?_

Harry picked up a handkerchief, cast a freezing charm on it and pressed it to his head. When the bleeding stopped, he went to the mirror and looked in it. _Red and swollen. I'll have to skip dinner to __avoid questions. _

Harry moved back to his bed and started on his homework for the night. It wasn't long after that he fell into a pain induced sleep.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Harry stood in front of Pomfrey for his bimonthly checkup. He'd done well in October but he wasn't sure how he'd do in December. He hoped that Pomfrey's scans didn't pick up his little romp in Voldemort's head the previous week. Then again, she wasn't doing extremely deep scans of his body.

"Well, you've been eating right and taking your potions."

"Yes, ma'am."

Pomfrey stared at him for a minute before nodding. "You've grown two inches and put on nearly a stone. You're at a healthy weight but your bones are still too weak. I want you to start a different bout of potions. A different nutrition potion and a bone growth potion."

"Bone growth?" Harry asked, never having heard of it before.

"Yes it was based on Skele-Gro, I don't suppose you know what that is."

"I do. It regrows vanished bones."

"That's right. This is only half the strength of Skele-Gro, however, and...well, it adds to bones. Your density is completely wrong for a human bone, but if I just vanished your bone and regrew them they'd only end up exactly the same as the bones you already have. This will supplement your bones — show them how they're supposed to be so they grow correctly." Pomfrey handed him the two potions. "Drink up. I'll be sure to send you enough to get you through the holiday. I want to see you on January 21st."

"Yes ma'am," Harry said with a nod as he left the room.

"Hey, Harry." Harry blinked and looked up at Seamus Finnegan.

"Hello," Harry said.

"Are you going home for holidays?" the Irish boy asked as he fell into step beside Harry.

"I'm going to be staying at the Leaky Cauldron with my new possible guardians," Harry said with a shrug.

"Oh... Do you have anything fun planned?"

"I don't know what their plans are but Dumbledore told me they have some."

"You're not a people person are you?" Seamus asked.

"I...haven't been around a great deal of people in my life," Harry said.

"Oh...well, we're going to become friends," Seamus said with a grin as he stopped Harry. "My name is Seamus; I like the taste of Rum but hate being drunk. My favorite color is yellow and I like cats. My cat just died right before the beginning of the year. Mum said she'd get me a new one but hasn't yet. I know she won't get me one until next year because she's evil and likes to make me suffer."

"Oh... My name's Harry ... my favorite drink is butterbeer. My favorite color is dark blue. I have an owl but I like dogs. My aunt never let me have an animal because she hates animals. Hedwig is in the Owlery at the moment."

"See, that wasn't too hard," Seamus said with laughing eyes. "Come on, mate, let's go annoy the teachers."

"I have to study," Harry said quietly.

"Really? Well, I suppose we can do that," Seamus said and bounced his way to the library with Harry following sedately behind him, wondering at his energy.

"...and we were in potions last Friday and Snape's hovering over Neville who gets real nervous when people hover near him, so he adds the wrong ingredient and the potion explodes and covers Snape in this gooey mess that turns him _bright_ orange. Even if it was purple to begin with. I don't understand how it did that, though."

"Probably a reaction to the potion he uses on his skin to keep the more harmful ingredients from entering his body through his skin pores," Harry said, his voice still quiet.

"He has a potion on his skin?" Harry nodded. "Then does he have one in his hair? Or does he just not bathe enough?"

"It would be rather stupid of a potion master to not bathe at least twice a day. The grease in his hair is residue from thousands of potions. It's never going to come out."

"Oh...that sucks to be him then," Seamus said as he threw open the Library door, making Harry wince and give an apologetic nod to Pince. "What are you studying anyways?"

"I was thinking about studying Defense."

"Yeah...can you believe that Quirrell? I mean, he's so scared of his own shadow that he can't even teach."

"Don't underestimate Quirrell. There's something wrong with him."

"Wrong?" Seamus asked. "I suppose the vampires could try to come back and get him but other than that, he's harmless."

Harry just hummed as he sat down with his book and took out some parchment. Seamus was silent for five minutes before leaning over. "Hey, Harry?"

"Yes?"

"What's this mean?" Seamus asked pointing to the page in his Transfiguration book.

"What?"

"What does it mean when they say that the density of an object affects the overall outcome?"

"Changing a feather into a pillow is easier than changing a rock into a pillow because the feather is less dense and more flexible than the rock."

"Oh...so I couldn't make a rock into rum."

"You could. But it would take a great deal of strength and it would be easier to just change a liquid."

"Oh."

Ten minutes later. "Hey, Harry? What's it mean when they say that associated objects are easier to change?"

"When you've already changed an object into another object, each re-changing – into the same object mind – gets easier and easier. The object remembers the magic for lack of a better word. McGonagall uses the same buttons, matchsticks and the like year after year because the objects 'remember' the magic and so are easier for first years to turn," Harry said.

"Oh..." Ten minutes later. "Hey H-"

"Seamus, I'm trying to study."

"You are studying," Seamus said, puzzled.

"Yes, but you keep interrupting me just as I get started."

"I'm not interrupting you!" Seamus said. "I'm asking questions."

"Seamus?"

"Yes?"

"No one lets you study with them do they?"

"No. I don't know why either."

"I can't imagine why," Harry said dryly as he bent over to read Seamus' book.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

"All right, Harry, I need to ask you something really important," Astray said as they ended their last lesson on before Break.

Harry looked up and seeing the unusually serious expression on his friend's face became worried. "Yes?"

"What do you want for Christmas?"

"What?"

"What do you want for Christmas? As a present?" Astray asked with a grin.

"Present?" Harry asked, doing some quick thinking. He honestly didn't know what he wanted. "Well, a Rune book, I guess. Surprise me."

"Well?" Astray asked after a moment of silence.

"Well, what?"

"Aren't you going to ask what I what for Christmas?"

"No, I already know what you want."

"What's that then?"

"A sense of humor."

Astray blinked at him for a moment before scowling. "You little brat!" Astray yelled as he picked up his bag and raced from the room, knowing she couldn't chase after him.

Harry chuckled as he stepped into the Common Room and made his way to his rooms before he dropped his smile and lay down on the bed. He had figured out, or at least thought he'd figured out, what was wrong with him. Why his emotions were jumping all over the place, why his magic seemed much stronger than it was even when he left the Future and why his bond with Voldemort was so much stronger than it had been before.

His future and past selves were fighting for dominance inside his body, the man he'd become and the eleven-year-old boy he was. While he was having an internal battle with himself, the bond was trying to cut its way deeper into his mind. It made for the mood swings of a heavily hormonal pregnant woman and a deeper connection with Voldemort. He could stop the connection between himself and Voldemort through Occlumency and the Runes he'd already used on himself, but the internal battle was going to have to take care of itself. It wasn't like he could just cut off one part of himself for convenience's sake.

Harry sighed as he threw himself on his bed. Maybe he'd go find Seamus and let the cheerful, chatterbox work his magic. A knock on his door startled him. "Harry?"

"Come in," Harry said, startled. Anthony Goldstein stepped into his room and looked at him for a moment. "Anthony."

"Harry."

Silence reigned before Harry broke it. "What can I do for you?"

"I don't know how you got so powerful but I know it's not natural. That being said, I've ruled out rituals, which would've changed you a great deal, physically. I went through several theories and settled on the best one."

"Oh?" Harry asked, shifting slightly.

"When Voldemort's curse backfired, you absorbed a great deal of his power."

"That's what Dumbledore believes."

"I see," Anthony said with a nod. "I suppose you're safe to be around if Dumbledore allowed you into school and you don't seem like you want to take over the world and kill all the muggleborns."

"No. One, it's too much paperwork and two, it's too messy. You'd have all those uprisings and such. It's just easier to be more subtle to get what I want."

Anthony's lips twitched. "Very well, then. Goodnight, Harry Potter."

"Goodnight, Anthony," Harry said as he stood up and left the Ravenclaw Tower to find Seamus. Anthony never ate dinner, though no one knew why. Harry didn't care why as long as it didn't affect his roommate's health.

"Harry!" Seamus said as he shoved Ron Weasley over to make room for him. "Sit down, Harry, and eat dinner with us lowly mortals."

"Seamus," Harry said sitting down. He gave Ron a look out of the corner of his eye but couldn't very well leave now. He hadn't noticed the red-head until he'd already been spotted by Seamus. Ron had moved under the table to get his quill, and it would look rude if he left now.

"Why are _you_ here?" Ron asked, glaring at him lightly.

"Problem, Weasley?"

"You're a Ravenclaw. This is _Gryffindor_."

"It's also dinner, at which time people may sit at another table if they so wish," Harry said, looking at the redhead.

"Oh, stuff it, Ronniekins!" George Weasley said from the other side of the table, eight seats up.

"Little Harry can sit here if he wishes," Fred Weasley said, throwing a roll at his brother.

"Have you heard what your plans are this winter?" Seamus asked, ignoring his fellow Gryffindors.

"I didn't ask," Harry said.

"Well then, I'll just Floo over and see when you're free," Seamus said. "I'm going to see me Grammy on Christmas day, but I'm free after that."

"That's acceptable," Harry said with a nod.

"Dean, this is Harry Potter; Harry, this is my best mate, Dean Thomas. We've known each other for ages."

Harry reached across the table and grasped the black boy's hand. "Hello," Harry said with a nod.

"I've never met a famous person before," Dean said with a grin.

"I've never been famous before August," Harry said.

"What? You've been famous since '81," Ron said, eyes narrowed. _He's still smarting from me 'embarrassing' him at the tutoring sessions, eh?_

"Yes, but I didn't know I was famous until August," Harry said, shrugging. "It's hard to be a prince when you're a pauper."

"What?" Ron asked, staring at him blankly.

"Nevermind," Harry said with another shrug.

"Is it true what they say about you in the books?" Hermione asked. Harry smiled internally. He knew Hermione had been dying to ask him questions before but was too into their 'competition' over grades to speak with the enemy but now that he was tutoring her, apparently he was no longer the enemy.

"Which ones?"

"_Modern Magical History_, _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_, and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century__."_

"Well_Modern Magical History _is complete crap," Harry said. "For one, Voldemort didn't come to my house with a group of people. It was only him and one other person. The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts is mostly right. Other than the fact that it was some kind of innate magic that stopped Voldemort. My mother is the one who saved me._Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century _was...very colorful but completely wrong. That book didn't even mention my parents. They act like it was some kind of showdown. And what kind of showdown can a barely walking toddler have against a Dark Lord?"

There were chuckles around the table, as well as the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, which were the only ones close enough to hear them. "Do you remember anything about that night?" Ron asked.

"Yes," Harry said, his voice flat. "I remember my mother being killed. I wasn't in the room when my father was killed, so I can't tell you anything about that."

Those around him paled, completely. "That's awful," Hermione whispered.

"That's life," Harry said as he loaded up his plate.

"I bet," Malfoy said, stepping up behind him. "That your mother rolled over like the pathetic mudblood she was."

Harry stiffened thinking: damn annoying blond. Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?, before turning around slowly to stare at the exasperating blond. "My mother nearly beat Voldemort," Harry said with a smile. "That's why he reacted like a coward and used the Killing Curse. Any old Dark Wizard can cast the Killing Curse, but only a true Wizard is creative enough to defeat their foe without resorting to the Dark Arts. Want to personally find out how to have your arse handed to you by a lowly half-blood? I assure you you wouldn't know what hit you. If, however, you use the word 'mudblood' around me again, I will show you exactly why you should fear me."

Malfoy stared at him for a second, something like terror flashing in his eyes, before sneering. "My father's twice the person yours is."

Harry blinked, then shook his head and laughed. "I feel like I'm six again," he muttered. "That's not saying much, seeing as mine is probably completely decomposed. He's only bones by now."

Malfoy blinked then snarled. "And what will you do when the Dark Lord comes back, Potter? I'm sure he won't be too happy with you. Perhaps he'll kill you slowly and-"

"That coward?" Harry asked cutting Malfoy off. "Probably nothing. After all, no matter what happens from now on, Voldemort will always be known as that pathetic idiot who got blown up by a toddler."

Malfoy stared at him, as if unsure what to say to that, then spun around and stormed out of the Great Hall. "Annoying little bastard," Harry muttered before going back to his food.

"Potter, you shouldn't rise to his baiting," Percy said.

"I didn't rise to his baiting. If I had, I would've jumped up and knocked that smug look off his face. Besides, aren't you a perfect. He said 'mudblood'."

"Yes, I am; however, that's not a punishable offense," Percy said. "Only frowned on."

"Then you should 'frown' on it," Harry grumbled. He glanced at the Head Table to see Quirrell glaring at him. Good, maybe Voldemort will get pissed enough to attack me like the hotheaded idiot he really is.

"You don't like Malfoy?" Ron asked, grinning at him.

"Never met him before tonight," Harry said, giving Ron a look.

"He's been going around school, bragging that you were best friends."

"What?" Harry laughed. "The only people in this school who can claim to be my friends are Professor Astray, Padma Patil, Su Li and Seamus. I've never even met that blond pounce before."

"Oh," Ron said, seeming much happier now. He thought I was friends with that little death eater wannabe?

"Hey, Harry, thanks again for teaching me how to turn water into rum," Seamus said cheerfully before throwing a glance at Hermione who was rapidly turning red.

"You're welcome." Cringing internally. I could've sworn I asked him not to tell Hermione.

"I can't believe you," Hermione hissed.

"What?" Harry asked, amused.

"You're using magic for such...such frivolous purposes!" Hermione said, her eyes flashing.

"Hermione, did you know there's a charm to tie a person's shoes? Or to brush your hair? Or to spread cold cream into your hand or face? Most magic used is for frivolous purposes," Harry said, dismissing her concerns.

"That's – how can you say that?!" Hermione said. "Magic is a wonderful gift that needs to be—"

"Hermione, I'm not here to get into an intellectual debate. I'm here to eat dinner with my friend on the last night of term." Harry turned away from the bushy haired girl and back to Seamus as the boy grinned and rattled on about some people from Ireland he'd never met before.

"Night, Harry, sit with me on the Express tomorrow," Seamus said.

"If I find you," Harry said with a nod.

The next morning, Harry was sitting in the very last compartment of the train with Padma and Su when Seamus, Dean and Ron burst into the compartment, followed by Lavender and Parvati. "Hello, people!" Seamus said as he struck a pose.

"Seamus, sit down and be quiet or leave," Padma said, glaring at the boy who'd disturbed their reading.

Seamus just laughed and slid into a sit beside Harry. "Hey, hey, Harry whatcha doin'?"

"Reading."

"What are you reading?"

"Thirty-eight ways to kill annoying Irish wizards," Harry said in a perfectly bland voice.

Seamus stared at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. Harry sighed and put his book away, knowing he wasn't going to get much reading done.

* * *

**A/N:** I've had several people make comments that Snape changes his attitude towards Harry a great deal in my story but I honestly have no idea what they're talking about. The first day of potions Harry surprised Snape by knowing the answers to several questions and getting his potion correct (reminding him more of Lily than James) and so threw him through a loop. The next time they met Snape was prepared and while he didn't actively hound Harry he didn't leave him alone either. Harry even comments several times on Snape's irrational behavior and hatred of himself. Snape was never nice to Harry and Harry was never nice to Snape. Snape is not a good person in this story and that's just the way life is.

* * *

**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added:** September 01, 2008


	9. Chapter 14: Leaky Conversations

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl and Nubial Sheep

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Sorry for the long wait, everyone. For those of you who are wondering, my mom is doing fine she had seven disks fused and is able to walk on her own now. The bad news is that they found, I guess, that she has congestive heart failure. There was a lot of noise about her heart being too strong so when is plumped it the muscles weren't being released all the way. So that sucks. And there was a freak lightening storm that fired my harddrive. I rebuilt an old computer I had around the house but I have to buy a new one soon, and that's a pain.

There's not a whole lot going on in this chapter, just introducing characters that might or might not be important in later chapters and getting Harry to the Leaky Cauldron.

On a side note almost the entire next chapter is done. So that's happy news for everyone.

* * *

**Chapter 14**

**Leaky Conversations**

When Harry finally stepped off the Hogwarts Express later that afternoon, it was with a smile on his face, which was, however tentative and small, a miracle all the same. Seamus was, understandably, beaming at having put that smile there. It had taken the entire trip and some pretty outrageous jokes before he had even coaxed a twitch from the other boy's lips, but all the hard work had been worth it, at least in Seamus' opinion. The rest of the compartment's inhabitants were, on the other hand, all thoroughly annoyed with the sandy-haired wizard. Seamus didn't seem to notice, being either completely obvious to all others' feelings but Harry's, or – he was simply so used to receiving annoyed glares that he didn't even register them any longer.

"So I'll floo over sometime after Christmas, Harry. We can show each other some of our loot, yeah?"

_Was he this …. hyper the First Time Around and I just didn't notice it? Or was I really that much of a bastard and didn't know him at all?_

"Yes, that would be … much appreciated, Seamus. Thanks." Harry said awkwardly.

"It's just in case you guys don't get along, right? Then you'll have an escape," Seamus said with a knowing grin. Harry shifted uncomfortably beside him, then blinked in surprised as Seamus suddenly caught his arm and dragged him away from the train. "Mam, Dad!"

Harry's face went blank when he saw Seamus' mom. He still remembered how she had believed all the nasty rumors about him the First Time, when the Ministry had started their smear campaign on him during his fifteenth year. _She's just a tool,_ Harry thought scornfully, _but it's not her fault no one ever taught her to think for herself_.

"Mam, Da, this is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my Mam and Da."

"Hello, Mr. Finnigan, Mrs. Finnigan, it's a pleasure to meet you," Harry said inclining his head toward the older woman while he shook Seamus' dad's hand.

"The pleasure is all ours, my dear boy," Mrs. Finnigan said with an almost giddy smile.

_She's like those women in second year who were all vying for Lockhart's time, Harry thought._ _It's nauseating_.

"Seamus where's Dean?" Mr. Finnigan asked, casting a sidelong look at his wife.

"Dean? He's saying g'bye to Lee."

"Lee?"

"Yeah, his cousin Lee Jordan. We met him in Diagon Alley, remember? He was taking Dean around for his supplies."

"Right," Mr. Finnigan said with a nod after a moment of silence when it was clear he was thinking back to the summer. "We're supposed to take the boy with us. Though his parents will be taking the rest of Break off, they have to work late tonight." This was all said as if it was a common occurrence, and for all Harry knew it very well could have been.

"We'll go find him!" Seamus chirped and dragged Harry off to find his Gryffindor year mate.

"Seamus, I've really--" Harry pulled his arm out of his friend's grasp and started backwards.

"You'll not be getting out of here anytime soon, anyways. It's easier to wait for the crush of bodies to disappear before trying to find people…. Unless you're a Weasley, that is. They're some of the only red-heads in the Wizarding World so they're pretty easy to spot." Seamus blinked at his friend then grabbed his arm again and proceeded to bodily drag his unwilling classmate off to search for Dean.

Harry stared contemplatively at the sandy-haired wizard's back. He'd never thought of that before, but now that it had been pointed out to him he realized that what Seamus told him was true. Harry and Ron had always been able to find Mrs. Weasley without any trouble because of her vivid red hair, so the Weasleys were always one of the first families to leave Platform 9 ¾.

"Dean! Oy mate, over here!" Seamus shouted, waving his arms madly about in the air.

"What, Finnigan?" Dean asked as he stopped in front of them, but didn't glance at his friend as he craned his neck around. "I'm trying to find Mum and Dad."

"They aren't here,"

"What?" Dean asked finally looking at them.

"You're staying the night with us and then going home tomorrow morning," Seamus said merrily.

"They're working late again?" Dean asked in a resigned voice.

"Yeah, but they made sure to be off for the rest of Break." Seamus said waving a hand as if to dismiss his dark skinned friend's tone.

Dean must have seen the look on Harry's face because he smiled, "Mum is a Doctor, a surgeon, and Dad owns a really big company in America that you've probably never heard of. Point is they work really long hours, but they always make sure that they're with us when we need them."

"That's nice," Harry said. "And I'm not saying that to be smart or polite. It's really nice that they make time for you, even when they're busy."

"Yeah, Dean smiled softly. "Some of my friends' parents don't. But even if Mum and Dad have to pencil in meetings to see us, they always do: and they never forget an important date."

Harry smiled at the two boys as they made their way towards the Finnigans. "Harry dear, where are your guardians?" Mrs. Finnigan asked as she looked around them, as if she could recognize people she'd never seen before in her life.

"The Dodderidge's are…. somewhere in this mess." Harry said waving vaguely around them.

"Tom Dodderidge?" Mr. Finnigan asked, his sharp blue eyes fixed shrewdly on Harry's face. "I was under the impression that you lived with you Muggle relatives."

"Not anymore," Harry with, but didn't go into any further detail.

"I see." Mr. Finnigan said, his narrowed eyes staying intently fixed on Harry's face, before he tactfully let the subject -- which he sensed was an unpleasant one -- drop as he turned and addressed the group as a whole. "Does anyone see Tom?"

"N-yes!" Seamus exclaimed as he pointed to a man dressed in drab brown robes. Harry took a good, long look at the familiar form of the bartender. He was balding and toothless, but Harry knew better than to judge a book by its cover. Tom had lived through the war with Grindelwald and had been caught while on s mission to steal important tactical information from the enemy, and had remained a prisoner at the Dar Wizard's base – where they had subjected him to countless unspeakable tortures – for a period of four years before Dumbledore had finally defeated the crazed bastard. Tom was far stronger and more dangerous than most people gave him credit fo, and was also firmly loyal to Dumbledore.

"There you are, Harry," The speaker was Melinda Dodderidge, who was standing at her husband's side in a light blue frock. She was older, maybe in her late forties or early fifties. She was a handsome woman; you could see the hint of beauty that she'd held in her prime which had faded, as all things did, with age. She had washed out blond hair and pale blue eyes and age spots on her hands. She was tall and had an aura about her that Harry had always associated with Minerva McGonagall: approachable (unlike Petunia Dursley) but you still knew you couldn't pull one over on her.

"Did the train ride go all right, dear?"

"Yes, ma'am," Harry nodded politely, feeling just a little awkward. It was one thing to converse with someone in a letter, but another completely to actually speak with them face to face.

"Good, good," Tom smiled at him before looking curiously at the group Harry was standing with.

"Oh, this is Seamus Finnigan, his parents and Dean Tomas; they're my year mates. Err, I mean Seamus and Dean are my year mates. Mr. and Mrs. Finnigan aren't." Harry motioned with his arm to indicate each in turn before he blushed at his choice of words as the group said their hellos.

"Martha Finnigan, you're looking good, as always. I haven't seen you in nearly three years!" Melinda smiled at Seamus' mother. Harry couldn't do anything but agree with Mrs. Doddridge. Despite that woman's questionable intelligence Mrs. Finnigan was a stunning woman. Not traditionally beautiful but still very pretty with startling blue eyes, a darker completion and ink black hair.

"I've been extremely busy with the babies. I'll never have children so close together again!" Mrs. Finnigan laughed.

"Oh I understand," Melinda nodded knowingly. "Could you imagine Molly Weasley, though? She had little Billy, Charlie and Percy all in three years, waited, and then had the twins while little Percy was still only two And if that wasn't enough, two years later she went and had Ronnie, and then Ginny just a year later!"

"That woman must be a saint," Mrs. Finnigan shook her head a touch exasperated and tinged with awe. "I remember Billy always casting spells on things, making the chairs come alive to eat the rest of the children… Remember when they lost Percy for nearly a day and found him in the cushion of the chaise? And Charlie, he was always bringing home strays and had to nurse them back to health. And the Twins! Merlin those two were such little terrors!!"

"I'm sure you're glad the Underage Magic Laws were passed," Melinda ran her hand's through Harry's black locks, trying to smooth down the stubborn cowlick.

"Not in Ireland they weren't," Mrs. Finnigan shook her head and let out a long-suffering sigh. "And you know as well as I do the Ministry can't tell whether it's a child who's casting spells In a magical household or their parents."

Melinda shook her head, "At least I'll only have one running around now. I just don't see how Molly does it."

"Does what, dear?" Harry froze up as a voice spoke from behind them, the voice belonging to none other than the much beloved Molly Weasley.

"Take care of your brood," Mrs. Finnigan waved to the five children surrounding the plump redheaded woman.

"To be honest, I don't know how I deal with it myself," Mrs. Weasley said as she moved to separate Ron and Ginny, who were bickering heatedly over some inane thing. "Honestly you two, behave!"

"Mummy, Ronnie said that I can't go to Hogwarts next year!" Ginny whined. "He said Professor Snape said they weren't allowing anymore red-heads into school! If that's true, then can I dye my hair black?" She got a dreamy, reverent look on her face. "Harry Potter has black hair."

Several people coughed, catching Ginny's attention. When she looked around the group, puzzled over the snickers from the boys, she said that Harry was standing right there! She squeaked like a frightened mouse before scurrying to hide behind Mrs. Weasley. "Hello, dear, you must be Harry. Ronnie's written home so much about you."

"Really?" Harry asked, puzzled, as he turned away from the entertainment that Ginny provided to look at Mrs. Weasley. "I can't imagine why. We've barely spoken more than eight words."

"You've been tutoring him in Defense, haven't you?" Mrs. Weasley inquired. "He's going to be so good at it with you teaching him."

"Er… well to be honest it's just a club we do," Harry shrugged. "Quirrell's pants at teaching so Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom asked me to help them with whatever they didn't understand in Defense and it sort of… grew from there."

"That's all well and good, dear, but you are helping him and that's what matters. Is there anything he should do over the Break?"

Harry blinked at the woman. "Just have him keep up with is morning runs and read over his notes."

"Well, we've got to get going, I've a roast in the oven back home that needs tending to. Children!"

"Bye!" The many Weasley children all exclaimed in one unified breath, as if they'd practiced it over the years.

"That was… odd." Harry looked at Seamus questioning.

"It's sort of a joke in the Wizarding World, Harry, that the Weasley's are so poor but produce such powerful children. I mean Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are both powerful and were forces to be reckoned with in the War. Bill, the oldest, is a curse-breaker -- a really dangerous job, and Charlie, the second oldest, works with Dragons, and hopefully I don't have to tell you just how dangerous that is. Percy is a Prefect and is set for Head Boy and he's definitely going into the Ministry. The Twins are talented, if slightly mad inventors and Ginny's already created three original spells that she's sics on her brothers when they annoy her…. And then there's Ron, he's powerful too, but he's spent his early years whining that he's never found anything he wanted to do…. He's sort of the black sheep in the Weasley Family. So I think Mrs. Weasley is hoping that you training Ron and building up his confidence will give him purpose or something."

"Oh," Harry replied eloquently _And here I always thought it was Percy who was the Black Sheep of the Weasley Family._

"We'd better get going now that the crowd's died down," Melinda pulled him away from the Finnigans. "Don't be strangers, Martha, I don't want to go so long without seeing you again."

Harry, getting the rather clear picture, easily picked up his trunk, not noticed the looks he received from those around him, and followed the Dodderidges.

By the time Harry and the Dodderidges finally arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, Harry was near the point of exhaustion and just wanted to get to sleep.

"Harry, I didn't know what kind of room you wanted and you're eleven years old, which is plenty old enough to know right from wrong. So I fixed up the old Maid Quarters for you." Melinda said as she looked at Harry.

"The Maid Quarters?"

"Yes – well, let me just give you a tour of the place and we can decide later whether you want to live with a bunch of old stuffy people or not," Tom said with a grin as he opened the door to the Leaky Cauldron and stepped inside. It was, miraculously, empty for probably the first time since it had opened, but it was still just as dingy as always. It wasn't too cluttered and the tables and floor, worn from years of scrubbing a use, were very clean, but the paint on the walls was discolored and the ceiling was filthy. Harry knew if a Muggle health inspector ever set foot in the Cauldron it would be closed down before you could say 'hello', but he didn't worry about that. Tom continued to speak, spreading his arms to indicate the room at large. "This is my domain, and is the only place, besides my study, that I have complete say over. The main room has five tables, each seating six people, and a bar that seats nine; on the north side are the lavatories, four for the females and three for the men. That door to the northwest opens to the stairs leading up; I keep it shut so the people going into the Alley – the door right next to the stairs – can't just walk up there all casual like," Tom glanced around the room. "We take the privacy of our customers very seriously."

"Leave your trunk here, Harry, while I show you the rest of the Cauldron," Melinda said, leading him through a door near the stairs. "This is the kitchen. You're allowed in here if you want to make your own snacks or even meals, but please, please be careful. The island in the middle has spells on it to chop, cut, dice, blend, and grind anything you put on it, depending on the color of the counter. Please don't, no matter what, put your hand on it. Several of our employees always lose a hand because they forget and go to wipe the counter down and brace their hand against it and – poof – no more hand. The cupboards on the north side of the room store the food, two for cold things and two for hot. There are two stoves, three ovens, and two sinks. The sink on the north side of the room is for washing food --and only food-- and the one nearest the stoves is for cleanings pots, pans and your hands if you want to cook in my kitchen. Those cupboards on the south side of the room are for storing cutlery, plates, bowls, serving platters – well, anything like that." Harry glanced around the cheerful kitchen with its yellow walls, white counters and pine floors. It was clean, even the walls and ceiling and Harry could tell that a woman spent most of her time inside the room; men just didn't care enough to keep things _that _clean.

"The Maid's Room is over here, follow me." Melinda led him to a door on the south side of the room. "If you want to stay here it's already been all fixed up." The door opened to reveal a room perfect for a Ravenclaw. The furniture and floor was all rich walnut and the walls and material were done in deep blues, greens, accented with silver and some black. Leading into the room were two vast, empty bookcases on either side. There was a desk against the far wall, a large sectional couch next to the desk, and two wardrobes next to that. On the opposite side of one of the bookcases was a large dresser with a mirror on the wall and a very, very large platform bed with a tall black leather headboard. The bed was piled high with plump blue and green pillows, accented by a single silver throw cushion. The soft down comforter was dyed a deep green, with a blue thrown laid across it near the foot of the bed.

"Wow!" Harry whispered, though the word could hardly convey how overwhelmed Harry was at that moment. The room was certainly bigger and more luxurious than anything he'd ever had; it was even bigger than the room he and Anthony Goldstein shared. "This is mine?"

"Yes," Melinda said. "The door to the left leads to a garden, a pond and out to London. I figured that, while you're only eleven, with the way you grew up you'd need and want your own space. That doesn't mean I'm giving you permission to run around London without telling me where you are or anything like that, but you are very responsible, according to Minerva, and I feel I can trust you with this. Besides I figure you're a very intelligent little boy, you've been at Hogwarts for four months without getting into trouble and it'll be easier to know where you are then to have you sneak out. I hope you don't break that trust."

"Yes ma'am," Harry said as they made their way to the stairs, already thinking that this was the best thing that could have happened to him. Surely they wouldn't check on him all the time and if they did, well, he hadn't survived the War against Voldemort for nothing. He'd picked up quite a few tricks of his own.

"The second level is the actual hotel part of the Cauldron. It has twenty rooms and nine bathrooms installed with showers, which doesn't include the bathroom inside the suite," Melinda continued. "There's no reason to visit them as there are guests staying here at the moment." The two of them ascended the stairs to the second floor.

"And this is our place. The bedroom I share with Tom is to the right, as is the bathroom. Straight ahead is Tom's study, which is a disaster area on a good day: papers piled up to the ceiling... My office is that room all the way in the far corner on the left. That huge monstrosity over there is the Couch; Tom picked it out and won't let me get rid of it. I don't understand why, it's not like we'll ever actually have twenty people over to sit on it," Melinda sighed and shook her head. "If you want to live up here with us, that's fine. We can expand the place easily enough; we just cut down on it when the children moved out so we'd have less to care for."

"No, the Maid's Room is fine," Harry assured her.

"All right then, that's pretty much all there is to the Cauldron," Melinda said as she led him back to the ground floor. "There are some other things we have to talk to you about, though."

They found Tom sitting at the bar with a glass of some dark liquid Harry had never seen before, but thought might be rum. "Good, you showed him everything?"

"Yes."

"Harry, there are some things you have to know, before you begin your stay here," Tom said as he set his glass down. "I know about you; the entire world knows about you. I don't know how you want to handle things, but we spoke to the other shopkeepers when we found out you were going to stay here for the Break. They aren't going to bother you and they won't let the shoppers bother you, but the press is out of our hands. We can tell them to back off if they get pushy but we can't make them leave you alone all the time."

"I had wondered," Harry said. "The press will be annoying I'm sure, but it's nothing I can't deal with. And if they get too pushy...Well, I am a Ravenclaw and I know some pretty nice spells for dealing with pests." Harry thought for a moment trying to think of what an eleven year old, even or maybe especially a rather intelligent, mature eleven year old would ask. After a few seconds of thought he looked up at Tom and solemnly asked, "What keeps me safe from the Death Eaters that are still out there?"

"Yes, that…" Tom looked uncomfortable for a moment. "The Leaky Cauldron is --and has always been-- completely neutral grounds. People cannot draw their wands in this room; if they do then everyone in the room will attack them, no questions asked, and they'll go to jail. Voldemort tried it once, before the war ended, and was driven out."

"Too bad the morons we call customers don't fight like that all the time. It would've saved so many people," Melinda muttered under her breath, giving Harry the feeling he wasn't supposed to have heard that, even if he agreed with her a hundred and ten percent.

Harry stayed silent, deep in thought. He'd never before heard of any incident in which people had actually driven Voldemort off. It sounded rather unbelievable.

"You will be as completely safe here as you would be anywhere. There is a cellar here that has the Fidelius Charm on it, with Dumbledore as the Secret Keeper – you do know what that is, right?"

"Yes, I read up on it when I researched my parents. There isn't much to be found on the subject, however."

"So if anything happens, go to the cellar immediately. No one can find you there, at least," Tom said handing him a piece of paper with 'Safe Haven is through the cupboard under the north wall sink.'

Harry nodded. It sounded like a good idea to him. He was very public, living in the Cauldron, but it also gave him a base of operations that no one but a select few people could get to.

"Now, there are a few ground rules we need to go over," Melinda said, her face serious as she held out a silver pendant with a raven on it. "This is a portkey – you know what that is, right? – that will transport you directly to the cellar. It is the only portkey that will work there; all others will take you to the bar. I don't honestly care where you go during the day, London or Diagon Alley or to a friend's house. But should anything happen to you --such as you being knocked out or stunned-- the portkey will activate. It can also be given an activation code, which no one but you should know. I don't want to know, Tom won't know: not even Dumbledore will know what it is. I don't want anyone besides you to activate your portkey and get in with you. If they do that, then they would be able to come and go as they please."

"Of course," Harry said with a nod.

"Yes well . . . I do expect you to be back in the Cauldron by... er, is sundown good?"

"That's fine." Harry said, mentally wondering if all witches and wizards were as lenient with their children as these two seemed to be. Then he remembered Molly Weasley, who only tentatively allowed her children to go to Diagon Alley alone when they had reached eleven, and that was only when hundreds of other parents were there.

"Good. I want to be told where you're going to be at all times and I want to know ahead of time if you plan to spend the night over at a friend's or have a friend stay here with you. You friends will eat free, of course, but we are running a business so do try to limit how many you have over, yes?" At Harry's nod she went on. "Good, then. . . . I want all your homework done in the next three days. And you can't . . . leave, until it's all finished."

"I've already completed my winter assignments," Harry raised a brow at the older woman.

"Really? Oh wonderful! I remember my son always waited to do his work until the train ride back."

Ron did that as well, Harry thought sadly.

"Er . . . you need to eat at least three meals a day. Poppy sent me some potions and things that you'll have to take as well."

"I'm aware of them, yes," Harry said with a nod.

"Good. Now as your Guardian, we need to go to Gringotts and look into your inheritance so I can figure out how much you're allowed to spend in a year. We've taken over your tuition payments for Hogwarts and your school supply fees, so you needn't worry about them."

"That's very kind of you, but it's not necessary to-"

"Nonsense!" Tom said. "We're old and we don't spend nearly as much money as we make. It'll be good for us to do something with our gold other than let it sit around in Gringotts gathering dust."

"Very well then." Harry shrugged, still not quite comfortable with having others look after him.

"Then we'll set up a time to go later," Melinda said, beaming at him. "What do you want to do for dinner, then?"

"Whatever you want to make is fine with me. I'm not picky."

"Well . . . how about Cottage pie?"

"Sounds fine to me."

"Wonderful!" Melinda beamed at him before going through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

Harry nodded and picked up his trunk and went to the Maid's Room. Harry looked at his room and smiled. It was strange not to have to share a room this large with another person. The two bookcases were huge, towering from floor to ceiling and looked like they could hold a massive amount of books.

_Hermione will be -- no, would have been -- jealous_. Harry blinked hard in order to rid his eyes of their momentary stinging, then shook his head. No, this wasn't the time to think about the life he had left behind, not when his new one was just beginning to look better.

Harry set his trunk down at the end of the bed and took off his shoes before looking around his room.

His room. Not a cupboard, not a dormitory, but a room of his very own.

Harry grinned widely and took a running leap at the bed, which bounced him up delightfully when he hit it. "My room," he sighed as he fell asleep.

* * *

**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added:** November 22, 2008


	10. Chapter 15: Tails of the Rat

**Title:** A New Chance Continued

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl and Nubial Sheep

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Why is it when you turn 21 everyone seems to think you should get pissed? I had my annual family Christmas party on the 20th of December and my birthday is the 23rd and it seemed that _every_ adult in my family wanted to see me drunk. I had a drink with over eight different people. My who'd never drank anything before in my life. Then my cousin thought it would be funny if we all drove out to find Santa Claus. Santa Claus, Indiana. I'd like to say that I enjoyed the ride and that Santa Clause is a beautiful place. I can't because I was too busy being drunk and then (we stayed there for the night seeing as two of the people in the car weren't capable of driving and the one who drove us up there was tired) too hungover to care about anything. And I haven't even gotten into New Year's!

People are evil. My family more so.

So why is the chapter this late? **Cough** laziness. Pure and simply. Sorry about that everyone. And why did I tell you that story? I'm still outraged that my family would do that to me. Then laugh at me when I complained. I'm sure I'll find it funny in a month though.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

**Tails of the Rat**

Harry woke up the second day of Break with a yawn so deep and long that it continued even as he stretched. He let out a groan when he saw it was still dark out but, when upon seeing that it was five-thirty he decided to get up and get his morning shower out of the way.

When he stepped into the kitchen of the Cauldron some time later, he blinked upon observing that no one else was there.

_Uh . . . Well, I guess they can't really stay up all night just to babysit a bunch of whiny wizards,_ Harry thought.

Harry busied himself by making some fried eggs and toast, and then wrote a short note for Melinda on a scrap of parchment – which he made flash different colors to attract her attention – telling her that he'd already had breakfast and his potions, and that he was going to Gringotts to get some money before making his way to London to spend the day just wandering around the town.

What he did _not_ tell her was that he had The List and was going to start getting some things marked off, not that she would know what The List was. His first order of business was to go to Gringotts and retrieve money -- a great deal of it -- in both Muggle and wizarding currency. The second was to go to all the junk and specialty stores in the Alley in search of a Pensieve. Unfortunately, after hours of looking through piles of useless secondhand merchandise he was forced to admit defeat. However, the shopkeepers had all promised they would keep their eyes peeled for one, so at least the morning wasn't completely wasted.

The third task on his list was to head to London to buy a Muggle glass etching kit. He'd learned a long time ago (or rather, far in the future) during the war – a time when Wizarding items were virtually nonexistent – that by using a simple etching kit he could not only make glass unbreakable by inscribing it with Runes, but that he could make it do _anything_ he wanted. Going out and buying a large assortment of of glass products was expensive and laborious, but the effort was worth it. Taking care of it now also had the benefit of giving him the opportunity to cast spells in Muggle London, just to see if he'd get an owl from the Ministry.

Upon returning, Harry went straight back to his room and started on his first project: making a box for Sirius. He was rather proud of himself for coming up with the idea, which was simple enough that it had been easy to work out the details. All his creation really consisted of were two boxes that were connected together magically, so that whatever you placed in either of them was automatically sent to the other. With these, Harry could send Sirius food and nutrient potions, letters or even _soap_ (the last Harry added after remembering what Sirius looked like the first time he'd seen him in the _Daily_) and Sirius could send letters back to him in return. It was really quite ingenious if he did say so himself.

The boxes Harry had picked out – which he had been very selective in choosing since they had to be completely identical for the runes to work – were three by two feet by two feet. The Runes he was drawing on the box were so small they might as well be invisible, his intention of course. It was hard to break a Rune that you couldn't see. Of course, anyone wanting to find the Runes could just try to enlarge the box - Hermione would do that, he knew - but he had taken precautions against that as well. Having a glass box this big explode in your face wasn't something he imagined would be pleasant, or easy to survive.

After he finished with the box, which had taken him the better part of three hours to complete, he started making nutrient potions for Sirius of a type that he'd invented during the war, meant specifically for victims who'd been captured by Voldemort but later released, or that had been left for dead, or had the 'prison' Voldemort was using, usually a manor owned by one of the rich pureblood Death Eaters, taken by the Order. Harry had seen too many people in awful condition that conventional potions couldn't cure to not want to do something about it.

Hopefully, by the time Sirius got out of prison this time, he'd be at least a little put together. Harry contemplated a palm-sized glass globe resting innocently on his desk. _Hmm . . . if I use Eihwaz, Algiz, Uruz and Teiwaz then...._

Harry knew his idea might not work. It was actually pretty foolish of him to even dream of it working, but anything he could do to help Sirius until he could get the man freed was all to the better. He wished he'd been able to do something earlier, but Dumbledore kept a very stern eye on all of his movements. Harry wasn't sure if the man suspected something or if he'd done it the first time and Harry just hadn't seen it, but he wasn't taking any chances. Now that he was out from under the man's eye – and Harry was sure he was, he'd thoroughly scoured his room for any type of investigative charms and found only a basic 'tell me if harmed' charm (one that every mother put on their child's room no matter their age) that was old and hadn't been cast by anyone Harry knew – he could move with much more freedom. Harry knew Mrs. Weasley still held that same charm on Bill and Charlie's room even after they'd already grown and moved from the house.

"Hedwig?" Harry asked looking at his oldest friend. "Do you think you could take a letter to Sirius Black?"

Hedwig gave him an offended look and clicked her beak at him. A smile broke out on Harry's face at that. He knew it always offended Hedwig when he suggested she couldn't accomplish any task he set for her but, she knew he didn't mean to offend. "Thank you, Hedwig, you really are the best owl ever. Now if you can't get the letter to him, don't worry about it. It's not a big deal."

Hedwig ruffled her feathers then snapped at him again. Harry shook his head with a smile and wrote the letter.

**Dear Sirius Black,**

**Please solemnly swear.**

**Yours,**

**H. J. P., Prongs Jr.**

Harry hoped that the letter would get the point across to Sirius without giving it away to anyone else who might or might not read the mail. Harry knew that prisoners could receive mail, but Sirius Black was such an infamous person they might not allow anything through to the man.

Harry cast several spells on the parchment, mostly to hide the fact that he was casting spells – _Hermione really is a genius for inventing these masking charms_ – then when the parchment went blank again, he set the password that only a Marauder would know and wrote another letter.

**Dear Padfoot,**

**Firstly, I'm glad that being in Azkaban hasn't rattled your brains too badly if you're able to read this letter. I really am Harry Potter and I know you didn't betray my parents. A little Blue bird told me so. The box that came with this letter will be invisible to everyone else as soon as you cut your finger and run it over the base of the box; please make sure to spread the blood onto as much surface area as possible, without endangering yourself. After that, my box will activate and I'll be able to send you potions and food. The blue globe that you will find in the box will hopefully lessen the effects of the Dementors. I can't promise anything because I haven't had the time or even a proper way to test it, but it's the best I can do in these circumstances. Frankly, if I never see a Dementor it will be too soon. The orb will become invisible as soon as you place three drops of blood on it. Keep it near you at all times.**

**I want to start by saying that I'm sorry you were never given a trial and I'm sorry that you were thrown into Azkaban as an innocent man. But most of all, I'm sorry that people thought - think - so little of you that they believe you betrayed my father. I know you're better than your family, though apparently other people aren't willing to see that.**

**I am working hard to get you out, but the Ministry is not going to be very happy to have their errors made public; especially not one of this magnitude. I hope you have the strength to hold on just a while longer. My potions and some proper nutrition should help give you some more time. A friend of mine assures me that he's doing everything he can to get you out and that I'd know when to act. Please keep up hope,**

**The potion that looks like blood is a nutrient potion and will help you gain some weight. Take three mouthfuls every four hours for the first three days. On the fourth day, take five mouthfuls every six hours. By the end of the seventh day, you should start feeling better and you'll need only to take the potion once with every meal, meals which I will start supplying for you when I'm sure they won't do more harm than good.**

**The blue potion is Dreamless Sleep. I want you to take it every night for three weeks until your body is well on its way to recovery.**

**The bright green potion tastes absolutely foul, but will help you feel better immediately. I recommend you plug your nose when you drink it. Take it all at once, and before you take any other potion.**

**The last potion is just a general healing potion. It will heal any minor pains you have but I can't give you anything stronger until you're off the first potion.**

**The plate, bowl, cup and cutlery that came with the box are spelled to mask any smells the food lets off and are invisible to anyone else - or will be when you place blood on the runes on the bottom of the plate, bowl and cup and on the back of the handle on the spoon, fork and knife - so the guards won't suspect anything. They are also spelled not to give off sound. There is also parchment in the box along along with a quill and ink. Please write back to me. I would dearly love to hear from you.**

**Your loving Godson,**

**Harry Potter**

Harry tapped the parchment with his wand and wove it into the spells on the box so that when the second letter showed up, the box would as well. He gave the first letter to Hedwig and watched as she took off.

He turned back to the globe and sighed. "Here goes nothing," Harry murmured as he called up every thought he'd ever had about Sirius, from the incredulous moment when he realized Sirius was innocent to the joy brought when Sirius asked Harry if he would like to live together to saving Sirius' soul from the Dementors. Harry thought of the months he spent with Sirius and of the Christmas, the only Christmas that ever felt like something even close to a family event, and finally to the memory of looking up and realizing Sirius had come to save him at the Department of Mysteries. Harry put all of those memories, from the almost overwhelmingly powerful emotions to the littlest stray thoughts, into his spell and whispered the enchantment.

Harry was glad that he'd left the window shutters and the drapes drawn, otherwise the light show from his spell would've been seen by every person within a mile's radius. Harry smiled proudly at his globe, which now glowed the silver of its housed Patronus Charm. It would hopefully help keep Sirius sane and, if not happy, at least in slightly better spirits.

He stuck the globe, potions, parchment, along with the cutlery, bowl, cup and plate with a watch on top inside the box. He charmed an ink pot to draw ink from his own stores and grabbed three sturdy quills, which he placed inside. The box was nearly full now so he let it be. He closed the lid and set it on his dresser near its brother and waited for Hedwig to get to Sirius. After that, he left his room to eat dinner with Melinda and Tom, got his shower and went to bed.

Harry woke with a start and looked around rapidly. The moment he sat up, the lights in his room flared up, dim enough so as not to hurt his eyes, but bright enough for him to know that nobody was in the room with him. Just in case, he stood up and peeked out into the 'hall' made by the bookcases. No one was in the room.

_So, who or what woke me?_

Looking around for the disturbance, Harry couldn't see anything likely for a moment, until his eyes fell on the dresser and saw that one of the boxes was missing. Specifically, Sirius' box was missing.

"Yes!" Harry hissed excitedly as he felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He hadn't actually been sure Sirius would get the letter.

Seconds later, Harry's box hissed and glowed a light purple in color, a sign which meant its counterpart had been activated. Harry let out a smirk and put on clothes, casting an illusion over himself to make him look like a plain, uninteresting twenty year old man. He grabbed a handful of bills and made his way to the nearest convenience store, where he purchased three boxes of pre-made broth, in chicken, beef, and vegetable varieties. He'd start with the very basics now, just plain broth that Sirius could sip slowly throughout the day until his stomach grew to be able to handle complex solids again. He made his way back to his room – exceedingly glad that he had his own private entrance – and poured vegetable broth into the cup.

Sirius,

Drink this but very, very slowly. Wait for ten minutes after you drink the potions - which you should've by now - then take a sip every so often until your stomach gets used to food again.

I hope I don't have to tell you that drinking it all at once is a very, very, very bad idea. I will anyways. Slowly, Padfoot, slowly.

Your loving godson,

Harry

Harry smiled slightly as he lay back in his bed and went to sleep. When he woke up the next morning, his box was glowing intermittently. The light was dim, and the effect was more like a pulse. He jumped out of bed, nearly tripping over the covers tangled around his legs, before grabbing the box and opening it. There was a letter sitting there.

**Dear Harry,**

**I'm so glad you believe me even though you probably don't even remember me. I was there when you were born, your mother went into labor when your father was out getting her some ice cream and I had to stand in for him for nearly two hours. I don't know **_**what**_** your dad was doing but whatever it was got me into a great deal of trouble (and by trouble I mean she broke my nose twice and my wrist once). Your mother could be a really vicious woman when the mood struck her…**

**Anyways, the globe works! It works very well I haven't felt this good since I was sixteen. I do want to know where you got these from - whoever it is should sell them to the public and make a killing, since I'm sure they'd help with nightmares.**

**Look at me rambling. I just don't know what to say to you. How are you? Really? Who raised you? I know they wouldn't let Remus Lupin near you as a child (he has a chronic condition that makes it so he's not always safe) but I hope whoever it was treated you well and gave you everything your parents would've wanted for you.**

**I'm sorry I couldn't be there for you. I don't know if you know what happened but, well, no one really knows what happened. I suppose I should explain shouldn't I?**

**Your parents were targeted by Voldemort along with another family - the Longbottoms actually - which is ironic seeing as Frank and Lily were good friends and Alice had her baby just a day before Lily at an Order meeting. Oh, right; you wouldn't know what that was so I should go back farther shouldn't I?**

**Back in the late sixties whispers came that a new dark lord was rising. Most people generally ignore these whispers because most dark lords get themselves killed long before they become a threat to the general public; you know, what with all the ways dark rituals that can go wrong or with them thinking they're more powerful than they really are and getting themselves blown up by a more powerful wizard. Anyway, so there were whispers about a new dark lord, but it wasn't until the self-proclaimed Lord Voldemort killed the entire Beacon family - who have always been very powerful and good at dueling magics - that the world started taking him more seriously. But by then it was too late; Voldemort already had himself a huge following and more and more wizards were flocking to him every day, either at the pressure of their families or because they wanted to kill mudbloods – and if I ever hear of you saying that word then I'll--well I don't know what I'll do but it'll be painful and humiliating – or simply because they got off on killing. Several of Voldemort's more powerful members were sadists and enjoyed causing their victims as much pain as possible, sometimes sending the victim's body back to their relatives in pieces.**

**By '78 Voldemort was so powerful people were being killed right and left it seemed, and everyone was more terrified than you can possibly comprehend. You didn't know who his death eaters were or even who just supported him but didn't actively fight for his cause. You knew that he can control people and make them do any number of terrible things without being able to stop themselves. So you're scared you might be hit with a spell that'll have you killing your wife and kids, and scared of your mother and father and your brother and sister and even your best friends, because they might be under that spell already. Every week there was news of more death and more disappearances and more torture. The Ministry of Magic was in disarray, who didn't know what to do because they ignored the problem for too long, for far too long. And when I said there were killings every week I meant in the magical world. The Muggle world was hit even harder than us. Thousands of Muggles were killed every time I turned around or at least that's what it seemed to me. Muggles couldn't defend themselves against magic, you see, didn't even know what it was. There was terror everywhere with people panicking and confusion was thick in the air because you didn't know who to trust, or if you could even trust yourself!**

**The Ministry was useless between trying to keep the public as calm as possible and trying to keep the Muggle Prime Minister from declaring war on us and wiping the entire lot of us off the planet. And they could've too. Lily told us about those S-Bombs that those Americans used to end War Two. No shield spells could have possibly held against those. Just "boom" and we're all Thestral chow. **

**So Dumbledore - you probably know him as your headmaster - set up this group of people ****willing to fight against Voldemort and his death eaters. Dumbledore's a great man, Harry, a really great man. He was the only person Voldemort ever really feared, you know? Hogwarts was the only place Voldemort wouldn't go near, and for good reason. Dumbledore for all his age could wipe the floor with Voldemort; no matter how many rituals the bastard used on himself Dumbledore was still better. Dumbledore knew more and had better resources at his disposal... Dumbledore was just ****BETTER****!**

…**So the Order of the Phoenix was a group of people who fought Voldemort and his death eaters. They didn't always have to go into active battles with him, but they did supply information and whatever else we needed. And we needed them so much. Your parents in particular. Lily was everything the death eaters claimed a Muggleborn couldn't be — pretty, smart, vivacious and above all a ****DAMN**** powerful person. Your Mum could take on any of the death eaters, up to and including my old cousin Bellatrix Black, and come out on top. Put her together with your father and myself? We fought Voldemort himself to a standstill and held him off until reinforcements could arrive. Three times we did that, damn us. Because of that Voldemort started targeting us. It wouldn't have been so bad if we hadn't found out that Lils was pregnant. We were all so happy, Lily and James and me and Remus; so happy that you were coming along -- never forget that! Remus was never going to be able to have a kid and I was a playboy and could never see myself settling down with anybody, but Lily and James… you couldn't possibly know how happy it made them just to know you were coming. James was over the moon and Lily didn't stop smiling for three whole months, **_**literally**_**. Her face was stuck like that. They were just so damn **_**happy**_**.**

**Dumbledore held us after a meeting in April and told us (me and Remus and Lily and James and Alice and Frank) that Voldemort was coming after us. I say 'us' because there's no way that me or Remus would EVER let you get hurt if we could help it, so he was coming after US and not just you and your folks. Alice and Lily were nearly hysterical trying to think of ways to save you two kids. **

**Lily came up with the Fidelius Charm. It was a bang-up little charm that allows something to be completely hidden, and I mean completely. The only draw back was that it ****couldn't be used on people or pets or anything like that. It could only be used on our homes, so that they were completely safe inside the house but if they stepped outside then they Would lose the protection. Oh, they used other charms as well, but that was supposed to be the ultimate charm to protect them. And it was, and still is… As long as your Secret Keeper is safe and doesn't tell anyone where you are. That's where we messed up. Or rather, where I messed up. You see, I was your parents Secret Keeper from April of '79 all the way up to October 25****th**** of '81. Someone must have told Voldemort that I was the Secret Keeper. Everyone knew there was a spy in the Order but no one knew who it was because the information Voldemort acted on wasn't consistent. We tried to rat him out by giving misinformation but he caught it EVERY SINGLE TIME! It was infuriating, frustrating and damn scary. We personally knew that someone close to us was spying on us. I thought it was Remus, but James wouldn't hear a word about it. Remus was just---**

**Remus is a werewolf, so I suspected him even when I swore to him that his condition didn't matter to me. I SWORE! I told him over and over and over again that it didn't matter to me. I said I wasn't a biased bastard and that I hadn't taken in what my parents spoon fed me from the moment I was born, but I went and did. I thought Remus was the spy and I'm ashamed of it. I had my reasons. Remus was always disappearing on off days, even when it wasn't the full moon, and he rarely saw us and never came to see you. Ever. I realize now that he was terrified of hurting you, but back then it looked suspicious. I know that it wasn't really. James saw to the heart of the matter immediately and wouldn't let me speak badly of Remus. We even came to blows about it a few times. I know now that I just wanted a reason to suspect Remus that sounded good to me. Because he was a werewolf. Because I'm as bad as my parents. No, I'm worse, because I swore I was nothing like them. It's worse isn't it? To claim to be a person's friend but turn on them the minute something bad comes along? My parents hated werewolves and half bloods and Muggleborns and halfbreeds and made no secret of that fact. I claimed that I didn't share their prejudice, but I did, really.**

**I'm an awful person Harry. Truly awful. I hope Remus can forgive me one day. I know I can't.**

**I've told you what happened to the rest of the world. But I didn't tell you why we changed Keepers. Like I said, someone must have told Voldemort that I was the secret Keeper because I kept getting attacked, and it was more than accidental like it had been before. I was being targeted, and Voldemort wanted me alive. He'd never wanted a person alive before, which made it both easier and harder to get away from his goons. Easier, because they didn't use deadly force on me, but harder because they were bloody ****everywhere****. It seemed like every time I turned around a death eater was **_**right there**_**. But I didn't mind. I didn't, Harry. I'm not a coward! I'm not! I took down more death eaters that year than any other person -- including Mad-Eye! And I was just a Junior Auror! Merlin, but it was a nuisance.**

**I didn't mind, Harry, I didn't. I would've done anything for you and Lils and James! Anything including die. But then I was captured and tortured for days and days and days... I didn't know how long until later. Three weeks I held against those bastards. Three bloody weeks! And they didn't get ****anything ****from me. I was proud of that, but I'd never been so scared in my life! I knew I was just steps away from breaking. I would've told them anything they wanted to know after that. Anything at all. If they'd just stepped up the torture when they found themselves being invaded I would've told them. Harry I would've and I---**

Here the parchment was dotted with small wet spots, where tears had fallen on the page, Harry's heart ached for his godfather.

…**But James saved me. James and Remus and Mad-Eye and Dumbledore himself came and saved me. I was a mess though. Knew I wouldn't be able to stand another session so I begged James to change Keepers. I wouldn't have, Harry, if it was just me on the line; but I loved you and Lily and Jimmy. I loved you with everything I was, everything I am. But I know myself, I know the limits of my strength and I couldn't have fought them again, not again, and held out. You were in danger and I couldn't be the one to put you there.**

**I just wanted you to be safe. And Lily and James. So I knew that Jimmy had to pick another person to be the Keeper. It's easy to do, much easier than initially putting up the charm. Just a spell, a chant and there you are. New Keeper. Remember when I said I didn't trust Remus? I thought he was the traitor, so I picked HIM!!! Peter Pettigrew, a boy I grew up with. His family has always been neutral, in every War the Wizarding World has ever witnessed for as long as anyone can remember. So my parents allowed me to befriend him before school started and Jimmy's parents just adored him. This chubby little boy with a pointed face who was always tagging along after Jimmy, but couldn't really keep up with him because he was slow. I didn't meet Jimmy until the second day of school - after I'd been sorted into Gryffindor - but Peter was his friend, so he couldn't have been a bad person. Everyone always thought that me and Remus and James let Peter tag along with us, but that wasn't how it worked. We were the Marauders, and if you couldn't keep up with us then you didn't hang out with us. Peter has always been able to hide in the background; he'd be right at the scene of the crime, but no one would even think twice about him being there, and then he'd use James' pensieve and we'd get to see what happened, exactly, and people's reactions to it.**

**And Remus, he'd research all the spells for us. God he was so smart, and not like me and James where we just didn't have to study very much, he was **_**frighteningly**_** intelligent, said something once about having an IUQ of 197 or something like that. I don't know what in hell an IUQ has to do with being smart but he was awfully proud of it. Remus was so happy when we found out about him being a werewolf.. Well, no, that's not true. He was so terrified at first that he actually passed out; but when we told him we didn't care, and that it didn't matter to us, he was so happy he cried (and I've seen Remus loose a leg in the heat of battle and still keep fighting, so that was a big deal). It got reattached so he still has it: his leg, I mean; lucky bastard.**

**Peter, though; he was every bit as clever as we were, but he just wasn't as smart as us. I should have expected something like that. Peter was too good at hiding in the ****background, far too good. Even we forgot he was there sometimes, like at Order Meetings or when we were discussing where to hide next. I should have realized it. Remus didn't even go to half the Meetings because he was so busy recruiting the werewolves on our side while at the same time trying to get a job to support himself. What with all the attacks going on, most people didn't know he was a werewolf, so that wasn't the problem; but when you've got a job and the building blows up it gets a little hard to keep that job. Me and Jimmy did what we could but... Remus has always been a very, very proud person. He wouldn't just accept charity, no matter how well-meaning, or how necessary it was. 'Course I understood. Because I was the same way; when I ran away at sixteen my trust was killed so I was trying to survive completely on my own. It doesn't sound that bad, but I grew up a spoiled little brat and was given everything I wanted before that point. So, Remus was nearly always gone, which meant that he wasn't at the Meetings, or there when we were planning where we were next going to hide - or at least decide when it was time to move on - because at the end there Lily was so scared (for you) that she wouldn't even tell Dumbledore where they were going. 'Course, James always told me, which is probably why everyone thinks I betrayed them. James trusted me more than he trusted anyone but Lily. I should have continued to be the Keeper, I know I should have now, but back then I didn't think I could survive another run in. I didn't!**

**I know that I'm to blame, Harry. I blame myself, and you should too. I know it and that's why I'm here., but I want you to know what really happened that day, on October 31.**

**I'd had a bad feeling all week and it just kept getting worse and worse as time passed until I woke up that morning. I've always had a touch of Sight, just enough to know when something affecting myself or my friends is going to happen. I knew that James and Lily and you were in danger, even more than usual so I went to see them. Lily laughed at me and told me I was silly. She never believed in divination. But I think that goes more to worshiping McGonagall than anything else. Seems to me if McGonagall says ****sometime is ****woolly**** then it must not be worth a real wizard's time. James knew that my feelings were usually right but he'd never suspect us. James regarded it as the height of dishonor to mistrust his friends and would never allow me to speak a bad word about any of them. He told me I was getting paranoid in my old age, first suspecting Remus, and then suspecting Peter? He told me I was spending too much time with a bloke named Moody - he's famous for being paranoid, and he just keeps getting worse and worse every time I see him. Saw him. He kept getting worse and worse. I really haven't seen him in years, have I? Anyways, James told me to take a load off and play with you for the day. I did, and we had a lot of fun, we did. You'd missed me because I wasn't around as much as I had been before. Lily said you cried for me all the time.**

**I went home that night, knowing something was going to happen and that I should've stayed, but Lily told me to go home and relax. I'm such a failure, Harry; I **_**knew**_** I was right - knew it better than anyone - and I just left. I just left them to face Voldemort themselves and there's nothing anyone could ever say that changes that fact.**

**When I got home I couldn't even sit still I was so restless, so out of it. Out of my mind with worry. I went to visit Remus, and the full moon wasn't for weeks so he was at the peak of health and he told me I was being silly, that I should listen to Lily and go sleep. Remus was another McGonagall-worshiper. I knew Peter, at least, would listen to me and let me mope around his house so I went there. It was 10:48 when I stepped inside his house; I remember the time exactly 'cause I glanced down at my watch. I went inside because Peter didn't answer, though he should've been home. I'd asked him what his plans were the day before and he said 'nothing'. He's always been scared of Halloween, so I figured he was going to hide under the blankets like he used to. When I saw he wasn't there I just thought he must have run out to get some milk or something. He was never a very good shopper because he never made a list and he was far too forgetful to remember everything he needed.**

**After fifteen minutes of waiting I got worried and went looking around the house. There wasn't a sign of a struggle, so I knew he hadn't been taken by Death Eaters. Peter was weak, always had been, but he could fight enough to keep them from taking him by surprise or anything like that. I went to his room and I couldn't believe what I saw.**

**Peter had out his funeral robes hanging on the wall, pressed and everything. I knew them well because I had the same pair, and so did James and Remus. We bought them together to use at James' parents funeral, then at his uncle's and my uncle's then at Kitty Pure's funeral. Pure was our teacher at the Auror Academy... But I knew they shouldn't be out because no one we knew had died in the last week or so. Then I knew why he had them out. Peter knew that someone close to us was going to die and knew exactly who it was because he was taking part in the death. He had a plan all worked out. And then I saw a piece of paper. It was a eulogy for me, Lily, James and you. It was all going to be wrapped up in one neat little package, Harry; all of our deaths.**

**He was working for Voldemort though.**

**I knew I had to get back so I called Remus and told him to get Dumbledore and get to the Potter house immediately. I went there as quickly as I could, but it had already happened and Hagrid was there. I fought him, so hard. I was your ****GODFATHER****! I should have been the one taking you and caring for you. You were crying so hard and loudly but the house had collapsed and James and Lily were laying there, out on the lawn, so still and pale. Hagrid had moved them. You wanted me, you begged for me but Hagrid wouldn't give you to me. "Dumbledore's orders, Sirius, I'm sorry but it's Dumbledore's orders!" Like I ****cared**** what that stupid old bastard wanted!**

**But Hagrid is a strong person; he can't be touched by most magic, and any curse I would've sent at him might have hit you instead anyway.**

**But I knew what happened. Peter was with Voldemort when he died. I didn't know Voldemort was dead at that time, but I knew that if you were alive something had gone very, very wrong with his Plan. So I went after Peter I tracked him like the traitorous little bastard he was, all the way to a small street in London. Peter had it set up as a safehouse in case we found out he was spying on us. After all, who looks in their backyard for the person they're hunting? I did, damnit! I had the little bastard. I knew I could beat him; I'd done it thousands and thousands of times before. Weak, pathetic little Peter. I should've remembered that he was a clever little rat bastard. I asked him why he did it, why he betrayed you and James and Lily., I screamed it at him. He just laughed, took out his wand and cut off his finger. I was so shocked I couldn't do anything else. He turned his wand behind him and did some spell - I don't even know what it was - but the next thing I knew the ground was shaking like an earthquake and then I was thrown into a building twenty meters behind me. **

**When I came to I was under arrest and then thrown in Azkaban. I waited for months for someone to come and question me. I knew Dumbledore wouldn't just let me rot in there, Dumbledore knew me, knew I wouldn't have cast that spell, or killed all those people. Then six months passed, then a year. I didn't even find out until the third year exactly **_**why**_** I was in Azkaban. They thought I'd betrayed Lily and James, thought it was **_**me**_** that got them killed. I fought for Dumbledore for three years, I gave him information on my family and he left me to rot in Azkaban without even coming to tell me how disappointed he was. He didn't even come to ask why I did it. He betrayed me just as much as Peter betrayed us.**

**So there it is. Everything. I know you don't have to believe it, but that's the truth.**

**I want you to know that I love you Harry. More than I loved even James and Lily. You ****were my entire world and I never would've done anything to hurt you. I'm so sorry that I couldn't be there for you.**

**All my love,**

**Sirius Black**

Harry finished reading the letter and sat back, staring at the wall before him. His eyes burned and there was a lump constricting his throat that made it hard to breath. If he'd had any qualms about getting Sirius out of jail, at that moment they disappeared. The letter he had just read was disjointed, jumping from subject to subject, like a person who wasn't quite all there in the head wrote it, or a man so full of guilt that he couldn't think past it.

Harry's lips tightened as he pulled out a quill. If he was going to pull this off then he needed to be prepared for anything. Dumbledore was a very intelligent person and tricking him was going to be a challenge in and of itself.

**Harry Potter,**

**You don't know me but I know a great deal about you. I don't know what you've learned about our world but it would do you a great deal of good if you'd get into contact with your godfather. He is not guilty of any crime save loving your family too much. Azkaban is truly an awful place, but they do allow prisoners to receive mail. Perhaps getting a letter from your godfather will shed some light on the situation.**

**Your Faithful Servant,**

_**Blue**_

**Harry Potter**

**I know that you took my advice and got into contact with your godfather. I told you Sirius Black was innocent, and I think any doubts you had were put to rest with his letter. **

**The rat in this cage is, in fact, Peter Pettigrew. I suggest you get into contact with Albus Dumbledore as soon as you possibly can. Pettigrew needs to answer for his crimes.**

**Your Faithful Servant,**

_**Blue**_

It was still early in the day and Harry knew he could pull this off. Ron and the other Weasley's had gone to visit Charlie in Romania. Harry just so happened to be able to make a portkey that could travel that distance without draining himself dry. He loved being a powerful wizard, you could just _do_ so much.

"Harry, dear, are you doing anything at the moment?" Melinda's voice came through the thick door.

Harry stood up and opened the door. "I was reading."

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Yes, thank you," Harry stepped outside his room and straight into the warm kitchen.

"I've made eggs, french toast, hot cakes, toast, sausage and bacon. You can have whatever you want."

"Thank you," Harry said as he got a plate and loaded it with food. Everything was piping hot and fresh, and the kitchen was filled with the delicious perfume of baking pastry and frying meat, as well as the merry crackle of grease on the hot pan.

"What are you going to do today?"

"Walk around London for a little while I think," Harry said with a shrug. "I've never been here before so I think it'll be good to familiarize myself with the city."

"That sounds like a good idea," Melinda said. "I do want you to be in here the day after tomorrow, however, so I can take you Christmas shopping and get your Gringotts account all settled out."

"Will do, thank you," Harry finished his breakfast and went to his room. He dressed in Muggle clothes and left the building using his entrance. He got on a train and made his way across the city. He was so glad that the Trace was gone; it wouldn't do to have people know what he was doing.

When he got off the train, he looked around and nodded to some people across the way before picking up a bit of trash, a half-filled plastic water bottle to be precise, before making it into a portkey that would take him all the way to Romania.

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**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added:** January 06, 2009


	11. Interlude A Look through the Eyes of

**Title: A New Chance Continued**

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Hello everyone, long time no see. I know I've been away for ten months and I want to apologized. But I've really been too busy helping my sister move with her two year old to Australia, then I was laid off of two jobs and became more than broke. Therefore I lost all internet. Its just really been a bad year all around. I still haven't got a new job, which sucks, but since the economy is picking up I think I can get a new one. Hopefully. But honestly I didn't realize how much time, exactly, had passed since I put the last chapter up. So sorry. The next one will be up very, very soon. Honest.

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**Interlude: A Look through the Eyes of **

**Neville Longbottom**

Neville Longbottom knew what kind of person he was, he knew it so intimately that he couldn't help but feel ashamed of himself; both for his Gran, who was so disappointed that he'd wasted all the talent that ran in his blood, and for his parents, who would never know what kind of failure their son had turned out to be. They had sacrificed their lives for him, you'd think the least he'd be able to do would be to get good grades and not be such a forgetful menace. He wasn't especially brave, so he didn't know how or why he'd been sorted into Gryffindor House; he wasn't very smart, so he knew he was going to be teased about it in school and had been dreading going to Hogwarts whereas all the other children his age couldn't wait to go. Neville knew the only subject he was even remotely good in was Herbology, which his Gran thought was a waste of good Longbottom Talent.

As if he had any talent to begin with.

Knowing what kind of person he was, he always made a habit of staying in the background and trying to keep from being noticed. He had become particularly good at staying unnoticed in the last two or so years of his life, to the point where his Gran often forgot he was even in the house. Of course that could have been because she wished he really wasn't there and pretended it was the truth.

So it came as a huge surprise to him when Harry Potter, _The Harry Potter, _hero and all around legend, choose to sit next to him in Transfiguration and _help_ him. He'd been so baffled he didn't even have a chance to really mess anything up. And Harry had been so understanding and patient with him that he'd felt confident even when he didn't get the spell in the first, second or even third try. Harry had made him feel like he _could_ do it. Harry wasn't like Great Aunt Enid who huffed and puffed and sighed and made it clear, without words, that Neville was useless and that the only reason she was wasting her time trying to teach him anything was so he didn't embarrass the Longbottom Family too badly when he eventually got to Hogwarts.

Harry had been _kind_ to him when so many people were cruel.

It came as an even bigger surprise to Neville when the next morning Professor McGonagall came to take him to the Headmaster's Office. She didn't speak to him and her lips were pinched, a sure sign that she was angry. She had looked like that when the Weasley Twins had exploded a dungbomb in the Entrance Hall the day before. _God, I'm being sent home. I'm really not good enough to be here. But I'm not a Squib! I'm not, I'm not! I did magic!_

Neville stepped tentatively into the Headmaster's office after passing some fearsome gargoyles and riding up the moving stairs. His breath froze in his chest when he saw Augusta Longbottom standing near the fireplace, the look on her face one he had grown so used to seeing. _Anger, disappointment, resentment, distaste._ He didn't see the fear in her eyes nor the concern because he was so used to not seeing them. "Gran, Headmaster," Neville said quietly.

"Ah, hello, Mr. Longbottom. I'm afraid we have some bad news."

"I'm not a Squib," Neville said. "I've been doing magic. I could change the matchstick into a needle. I can even change it back! I know most of the people in the class can't do that. Don't send me home, Headmaster, _please_."

The Headmaster stared at him for a moment before shaking his head. "No, no, dear boy, we're not sending you home. I know you're not a Squib and you will always have a place at this school. Please sit down," The Headmaster said, waving to a chair in front of the desk. When Neville took his seat, sucking on a sweet the Headmaster had offered him rather desperately. Neville looked up at the man, feeling calmer than he had since he woke up that morning. "The bad news we have to share with you is rather disturbing."

"Oh?"

"It seems a Block has been placed on your magic."

Neville paled and stared at the man. Blocks were told to children at night when they wouldn't go to sleep or to the really, really naughty children when their parents were just tired of dealing with them. "_If you're not good, someone will get really angry with you and place a Block on your magic, my boy,"_ Great Uncle Algie used to say to him before they all thought he was a Squib. _"And when that happens, no one will love you because they can't be undone. And who could love a person who can't do magic?"_

"A...a block? So...so I really am a Squib?" Neville asked, staring up at the man as a terrible feeling built in his chest.

"No, not at all," The Headmaster said. "Blocks can be removed but they are very dangerous. If they're not done correctly your magic will be destroyed."

"Then I don't want it done!" Neville burst out, unable to keep himself from speaking.

"If you don't have the Block removed, then it will get stronger until you can't do any magic at all." Neville stared at the man who was sitting there so calmly. _My life is going to be destroyed or remade today and he's...he's just sitting there._

"So what happens now? What do I do?"

"We're going to St. Mungos," Dumbledore said with a smile as he stood up.

Neville followed Dumbledore through the Floo and into St. Mungos. His feet started moving automatically toward his parent's ward and only stopped when he realized what he was doing. He went red under his Gran's glare and the pity in McGonagall's eyes, he didn't bother to try and read Dumbledore's expression but he was sure the man felt pity for him as well.

Neville followed the three elder adults to a large room and sat on the chair where the Healer indicated. He was terrified and was trembling but couldn't stop. "Now what seems to be the problem, Dumbledore, you know I don't Heal anymore."

"I know, Abigail, however our young friend, Neville Longbottom, had his magic Blocked when he was a toddler," Dumbledore said, his voice taking on a serious note that had been absent before. "I know you don't work any longer but I would consider it a personal favor if you helped me Unblock him."

The old lady, for the Healer was older than anyone Neville had ever seen before (even Gran's friend Madam Marchbanks and Neville had never thought he'd see a person who looked older than Madam Marchbanks), took out her wand and waved it around Neville's head, then his body, and finally ended up at his head again. "Hmm, quite a strong Block. Excellent work. Who cast it?"

"We only have ideas."

The woman looked at Dumbledore for a moment. "Boy," she barked. "You're not too old for me to turn over my knee! I won't put up with your vague ideas. Tell me or don't but I'm too old for your games."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Very well, Aunt Abigail, we believe it was one of the Lestranges. Bellatrix was always too impatient for such work. Rodolphus doesn't have enough skill to do so. Rabastan would be my guess."

"Fits with those monsters," Healer Abigail said with a nod. "I'll record the signature and get it to the Ministry."

"That would be appreciated," Dumbledore said with a nod.

"Well boy, are you ready for this?"

Neville wasn't ready, he didn't even know what was going to happen but he had a feeling he didn't really want to know what was going to happen to him. He also had a feeling that the longer he waited, the worse he'd fret, and then what would've been a painful experience in the first place would be made worse through his nerves.

"Remember to try to keep as relaxed as possible. Let the pain flow through you. Lay down."

Neville nodded and lay down where the woman pointed, in the middle of a circle of strange and exotic writing. The woman started chanting which was taken up by Dumbledore after a breath. Just as Neville started to feel awkward and uncomfortable, heat built in his stomach, right below his naval. It felt a little like a butterfly was flitting about inside him, it didn't hurt exactly but it was strange and therefore uncomfortable. The feeling grew and grew until it changed from a butterfly to what felt like a punch in the gut, painful and stinging but not unbearable but made worse because it was a constance pain instead of _bam!_ and gone.

Neville was breathing heavily but continued to lay on the floor as the chanting stopped. "Whoever did this did do a good job of it." Healer Abigail said. "It's set in there but it will be simple to remove."

"Simple? How simple?" Gran's voice reached him.

"Simple enough," Healer Abigail said. "Think of it like... like a house. They take a long time to put up, you have to get everything just so, but if you knock out the correct supporting beams the house will collapse. Don't mistake simple for easy, however. It will be a long, drawn out process, depending on how much the boy's magic reacts to us."

"Why would his magic react to us? We're trying to help him!"

"The Block has been in place for so long that, to his magic, it is part of him even as his magic tries to fight it. When we try to remove the Block his magic will take that as an attack on his person and react."

"What do we do now?" Gran's voice echoed around the room in the sudden silence; Neville didn't notice the fear in her voice.

"You need to use your magic to sooth his own. You are 'known' to him so his magic will, hopefully, know that with you here nothing will hurt him."

Gran nodded and moved to kneel beside him. Neville shuddered as his Gran's magic flowed through his body. He hated it when she did that because her magic was just as stern and unforgiving as she was. But to get his magic to himself, completely to himself for the first time ever, he'd do anything. Even if it meant submitting himself to his Gran's magic.

Neville didn't notice Dumbledore and the Healer kneeling beside him when pain such as he'd never felt before slammed through his body. He vaguely heard someone screaming and screaming and screaming and didn't have enough sense of himself or his surrounding to know that it was him. Neville just knew that he _hurt_.

**_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_**

When Neville woke up again he was alone. He'd thought that at least his Gran would be there but she was gone and he was completely and utterly alone in the small white hospital room.

Neville lay there staring up at the ceiling as he took stock. He knew he wasn't stupid. Of course he wasn't extremely intelligent, not like Harry Potter or Hermione Granger, but he wasn't as stupid as Ron Weasley. One thing Neville knew a great deal about was his body. He'd spent most of his childhood doing nothing because he was the Heir of the House of Longbottom and Gran had always believed if he ran around like other children (well, besides the fact that she found it undignified and beneath a member but especially the Heir of the House of Longbottom) he'd fall and break his neck or otherwise hurt himself rather badly. So he'd learned a lot of things that other people might not know.

He'd learned to meditate and had learned his body. He should've known that there was something wrong with his magic a long time ago because his body had always felt off to him. But since it had always felt off he just didn't think of it (much). Now though, God, now he could feel. It was like being blind but not knowing you were blind. He could feel and see so much. The sunlight filtering through the sheer drapes looked so much brighter than it ever had before and he could feel the breeze without concentrating on it. He could feel the slightly itchy hospital garments and how the wind played with his hair and brushed it lightly against his neck and cheek.

It was so wonderful that there was no way he could be a Squib. He had to have his magic and it had to be running through his body much better than it did before. It had to.

Neville spent the rest of the week in St. Mungos, mostly with his parents, but he also went to different specialists, who all told him the same thing: he'd experience fluctuations with his magic. Sometimes it would work perfectly, sometimes it wouldn't work at all and sometimes he'd overpower his spells. He was to use his magic as much as possible but he wasn't allowed to cast spells on another person until he was given permission from one of the specialists.

When Neville returned to Hogwarts, everything seemed much better and worse than it had been. He knew he wasn't a Squib anymore so knew he could do spells and didn't let a failed spell get him down because some spells worked _too_ well. Now that he knew he wasn't a Squib he didn't mind being at Hogwarts and began to enjoy it a little. The only thing in his life that he didn't care too much for was how his Gran treated him now because she had expectations. Well, she'd always had expectations of him but it was usually to fail. Now, however, she expected him to be the best. And he couldn't be the best. Not when he was competing against Harry Potter, _the_ Harry Potter, and Hermione Granger who was already (only two months into school) being called one of the smartest witch of the age. She was scary smart.

So when Hermione came to him and asked him to speak with Harry, that she wanted the dark haired boy to tutor them (and others if they could get him to) in Defense, and anything else he was willing to do, he jumped on it. Harry had to be the smartest person Neville knew, surely he'd be able to help Neville with his magic.

Especially since Dumbledore hadn't spoken to him again. Neville thought that the headmaster would at least call him to his office to make sure he was doing alright. But he hadn't.

When he and Hermione had asked Harry to tutor them, Neville thought that Harry would laugh at him and tell him he was as hopeless like everyone else did. Instead, Neville got the feeling Harry understood him, that he understood how much he wanted to make his parents proud and he didn't seem in the least bit upset about wasting his time on a loser like Neville. Well, he didn't seem to mind anymore than tutoring Hermione and anyone who didn't want to tutor her didn't want to tutor anyone.

It wasn't until the next morning when he got up at five in the morning (he'd never been up that early before in his entire _life_) that he found out what it really meant to work. Harry taught him to stretch and warm up, then told him to run around the lake until he couldn't move anymore but not to run too fast or he'd never make even one lap.

Neville felt a little awkward running at first, for the first ten minutes anyway, then he was concentrating so hard on putting one foot in front of the other that he didn't worry about anyone seeing him or what they thought of him.

He made one and a half laps around the lake before he felt he couldn't go on. But he continued on pushing himself until he got back to where he began and collapsed, feeling like he'd never be able to get up again. His eyes were closed so he couldn't see anything but he felt it when Harry sat down next to him. "Up. Got to warm up, you did good with the warm down. Now we stretch," Harry's voice, his hateful, evil voice echoed around them in the early morning fog.

"I don't think I can," Neville groaned. He heard Harry laugh.

"Longbottom, I think you can do anything that you set your mind to." Harry grabbed his shoulder and forced him up. "Now stretch."

Neville sluggishly followed Harry in his routine, hoping he could just crawl into bed and never have to move again. When they were done, Harry nodded to him. "You did really well, Neville, and tomorrow you'll be able to go just a little farther than you did today, and the next day a little father." Harry waved his wand at him, causing Neville to tense up. He didn't think the dark haired boy was going to hurt him but years of torment and bullying was enough to ingrain habits into anyone. "And before you know it you'll be able to keep up with me. Then we'll move on to other forms of physical workouts. I'll teach you to fight when you can run four laps around the lake without collapsing."

"How much is that? I mean, is it a mile?"

"No," Harry said with a nod. "The lake is a half mile around. You ran at a pretty good clip today. You should feel proud. Most people would've stopped halfway through."

"I couldn't make the full two, though," Neville said miserably.

"Stop it." Harry's voice was as sharp as a cutting curse and just as potent because he didn't raise it like Gran did. "If you're going to wallow in self-pity when I've told you you did good then keep it to yourself. I'm not going to listen to it. You did good today, you've never ran before, right? Then believe me, even if you don't believe yourself, when I say something. I'm not in the habit of complimenting people when they don't deserve it. You should be able to move without any soreness in about five more minutes, I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that, Harry was gone.

Neville bit his lip as he stared after the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry had been helping him and no matter what Harry said he wasn't as cold as he liked everyone to think he was. Harry helped people when they asked; Neville had seen him do it during classes, or when the fancy struck him. But he wasn't gentle about it, he didn't mind calling a person out when they were being stupid and didn't seem to care what people thought of him. Neville was sure that Harry would never say someone did good unless they really had done good. _I will, Harry, I'll do better and better until I can run _ten_ laps around the lake!_

It had taken him nearly the entire month of November and well into December to get good enough to be able to run around the lake four times without exhausting himself. Neville was glad, not for the first time, that he was a wizard. According to Hermione (who Neville was sure knew just about everything there was to know about Muggles) it should have taken him longer than it did to go from overweight to being able to run two miles but the spell Harry cast on him every time he was done running sped up the break down and build up of his muscles.

Magic couldn't cure everything and Neville knew that better than anything but it could cure a lot.

Magic was a problem these days, mostly because he couldn't control it at all. Even the simplest spells seemed to have awful reactions. He would do the spell and it would work (when it was a class one spell, two and threes were harder to control and he was forbidden to try them until he got himself under control more) but they'd add extra to themselves. He could do a _Lumos_ only to find out that anything the light touched became bright purple. Or he'd change the matchstick into a needle only to find that his entire desk had been changed into a pile of needles. McGonagall sympathized with him, he knew that, but that didn't stop her from taking points for it.

After a week of seeing how miserable Neville was (and how much Hermione's nagging wasn't helping though Neville would _never_ say that) Harry took him aside and gave him what he called simply exercises to control his magic.

The way Harry explained it, magic built up behind the navel on guys and about an inch lower for girls. Magic ran through a person's entire being at all times but it 'dammed' behind the navel. It was why portkeys felt like a hook had attached itself to a guy's bellybutton.

Harry had transfigured a huge rock into a counter with a sink and faucet and did _something_ to attach it to the lake. "Now this is what most people's magic is like." Harry said turning it on to show Neville that the water was running at a gentle but steady pace. The faucet was turned on halfway. "This is what a person's magic is like in an emotionally charged situation." He turned it on all the way and the water poured out by the gallons.

"Understand?"

"Yes," Neville nodded, this was easy to understand, unlike anything Great Aunt Enid had tried to teach him.

"Now this is what your magic is like at the moment." Harry cast a spell over both of them, though Neville hadn't caught what it was or understood what it was meant to do at the moment. Then Harry used another spell to knock the faucet off and water exploded from the sink, shooting twelve feet into the air and soaking everything around them, but the magic Harry had used kept them dry. "Do you see the problem now?" Harry shouted over the roar of the water falling around them.

"Yes!" Neville shouted back. Harry did a few spells and the sink disappeared back into a rock and the water around them started to drain into the lake. Nonetheless, they moved to a dry place and sat down. "How do I fix it? Is it possible to fix it?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "It'll be hard work but you're already halfway there. Developing control over your body will help you control your magic more. What we have to do right now is get you in touch with your magic. So you can feel it moving through you at all times. Then we'll work on control."

So they spent an hour before their daily run on meditation. Harry somehow entered his mind and showed him how to access his magic but not to do anything with it. Harry just wanted him to get used to touching his magic, and every day it took less and less time but he still couldn't just reach out and touch it. Not yet. So Harry told him to continue to meditate over the break. But told him not to _do _anything with it. Harry told him that he could kill himself and everyone around him if he messed with his magic without a person with him. That scared Neville into obeying Harry. Not that he wasn't willing to wait until Break ended to work with Harry again. He vowed to himself that he would be able to reach out and touch his magic without trying at all before he got back to Hogwarts so they could go straight into the next set of exercises.

Harry told him to keep running over winter break and taught him the spells to cast, having him do them over and over and over again until the pudgy boy could've done them in his sleep. Harry told him there was no danger in the magic and the only thing he could possibly do was to over heal his body and flood it with magic, which wasn't necessarily a bad thing. But if he didn't feel comfortable doing the spell on himself he could get his Gran to do it. Or any witch or wizard for that matter.

One of the boys who'd joined them in running after the first week snickered at the thought of Neville not being able to cast a simple spell on himself. Harry's glare, when he really glared and not his 'Shut up you annoying pest' glare, was enough to cow anyone even bullies like fourth year Lenne Ives. It was much scarier than Snape's for certain. "You don't have to be here," Harry's voice was low but everyone knew what kind of magic he could control and it was frightening at times. Neville knew that the only reason most of them were there was because their Quidditch captains made them work out.

"Good, good," Harry said with a nod. "I know I told you I'd teach you defense after you could run the four laps; however, I feel it wouldn't be good for you. You'll practice whatever I teach you during the break and you'll probably end up doing it wrong, no that's not an insult to any of you. Everyone gets into bad habits when doing forms unless they learn to do them well before practicing on their own. Fact of life. I'll start teaching you after you come back so by summer I'll be able to trust you enough not to develop bad habits." Harry picked up the water jug the House-elves had given him as the other fifteen or so boys and three girls left. When it was just Neville and Harry (both who stayed behind to talk about anything either felt like) Harry asked, "How are you doing in class? Need any help?"

Neville thought about that question seriously. He wasn't doing great in potions, of course, but he knew that had to do more with his deep fear of Snape than anything else. "Do you know a better way to learn the constellations? I keep forgetting them."

"Hmm..." Harry tapped his lips. "Do you know how many there are?"

"88." Neville knew that Harry knew the answer but was testing him.

"And the families?"

"8"

"Then break them down. Go by the families and only learn one of them at a time. The Ursa Major Family consists of Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, Canes Venatici, Boötes, Coma Berenice, Corona Borealis, Camelopardalis, Lynx, and Leo Minor. Repeat that over and over and over again. Ursa Major Family. Ursa Major Family has Ursa Major. Ursa Major Family has Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. Ursa Major Family has Ursa Major, Ursa Minor and Canes Venatici. Do that every today when you're walking to class and at lunch and dinner. Then tomorrow do The Zodiacal Family. It's not hard, Neville you just have to take things slowly. You can't remember everything about something all at once. There are eight families so you should be able to do them all by next Saturday and on Sunday you should go over them all and see if you can remember them. Any of them you don't remember just needs to be said again and again so repeat the Families. Then you can worry about finding them in the sky. If you don't know what to look for you can't find it, right?"

"Right," Neville said. "Is this how you remember them?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I go over them every Sunday so all the hard work I put into it doesn't get lost. Then I go to the books and find them in it to remind myself. Astronomy isn't hard, it's just tedious."

Neville nodded. "Thanks, Harry."

"No problem."

By then, they reached the Entrance hall and went their separate ways. As Neville walked, he repeated Ursa Major Family based on what he could remember from Harry saying it and vowed to repeated it again and again today until he could remember it.

**Hermione Granger**

Hermione Jane Granger knew exactly what type of person she was. She had an eidetic memory and had learned thousands of things over the years. She knew her thirst for knowledge had sometimes bothered and frustrated her teachers (which she _didn't_ understand because they were supposed to want their students to learn everything they had to teach... though perhaps correcting her third form teacher hadn't been the smartest thing she'd ever done but the man had been _completely_ wrong however she knew he hadn't enjoyed the embarrassment of having a student correct him and be right about it). It wasn't like she was trying to show other people up, not much anyway, she just wanted to know how everything around her worked and why it did what it did. It was almost an ache inside her to know, a need that went deeper than her need for food and sometimes sleep.

So when she accepted her place at Hogwarts (and she had gotten over her deep seeded knowledge that **magic didn't exist**) she immediately went to Diagon Alley and bought every book Professor McGonagall had told her would help her. When she read those books (and of course her class books) she went on to memorize them all. It had taken her the rest of the month to read the extra books because she concentrated so much on the school text, wanting to make sure she was the best, the one the teachers praised. Getting approval from the teachers was nearly as important to her as the knowledge itself.

Then she read up on Headmaster Dumbledore and how wonderful and great he was. How he was acknowledged by one and all as the most powerful, most learned wizard in the world. And Hermione wanted to _be_ him. She'd gone into Hogwarts and told that dingy old hat (which she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to put on because she'd gotten lice once from wearing another person's hat and it had taken ages and ages to get it out of her hair) she'd take nothing less than Gryffindor because that's where the headmaster (who was three steps from being worshiped by Hermione because he was everything she wanted to be) had gone. She'd gotten into Gryffindor just like she wanted and had been sure that people would like her here, after all, Dumbledore was their most famous member (beside Godric Gryffindor himself) and he was famous because he _knew _more than anyone else! Surely someone should like her as well!

But it wasn't to be. Hermione never, even once, considered that it was more how she presented her knowledge, as if everyone around her was stupid for not knowing the answer, than the fact that she knew it. After all, Ravenclaws weren't looked down on for knowing whatever they wanted to know (unless they had personality traits that grated on the nerves).

Hermione was fully willing to admit that her jealous and growing dislike of Harry was more than just that he was intelligent (she got along with some of the other Ravenclaws didn't she?) or just because he was taking extra classes or never seemed to get lost (she still sometimes got lost and it was November! But how was a person supposed to find anything in this madhouse? When the paintings changed subjects several times a day and the doors might not open unless you were nice or tickled it or said the password and the stairs _moved_ and sometimes seemed to hate her as much as her roommates and always made her nearly late to every class!) or even that he seemed well liked by the professors. Though those points didn't endear him to her any.

What really, really made Hermione jealous was that the students _admired_ Harry Potter. And he didn't seem so good to her. Just because he had lived in the Wizarding World his entire life and had been around magic so knew more about it than her. Well, _she_ was going to learn more than he ever would and then they'd see how much the students liked him! Besides, it's not like he was nice. Just because he beat a dark lord. He was only a baby so she wasn't sure how believable that was, other than the fact that Dumbledore said it was so and Dumbledore wasn't the type of person to make mistakes like that!

Harry Potter was rude, curt and unbelievably arrogant! He wasn't anything special at all.

At least that's what she thought until she heard that he'd beat a mountain troll with just a first year spell and a table. Not only that but if rumors were to be believed (not that she usually believed rumors, mind you) the Ravenclaw Tower had been destroyed in the fight. And he'd been so modest about it when she'd asked him what happened. There's no way that was true, after all, what kind of morons kept projects like that in their dorm? That was just asking for trouble if you asked her opinion.

Hermione stared at Harry sitting at the Ravenclaw table reading like she usually did. The difference between them was that enough of his housemates read at the table that no one raised a brow at him, like they did with her. And Harry was so powerful that she was sure not even a seventh year would have the nerve to bully him for being a bookworm, not like they did her.

She'd heard enough whispered conversations in the halls and not so whispered in the Tower to know now that Harry hadn't lived in the Wizarding World. According to Neville, who'd heard it from his Gran who was on the Board of Governors, Professor Flitwick had to go and introduce Harry to the Wizarding World because he didn't know anything about it. So how had the boy learned so much so quickly? What did he do? Spend every minute of every day studying? Even if he did have an eidetic memory she didn't see how he was so much better than her. How was she supposed to keep up with him? What if she wasn't at the top of the year? And that thought gave her nightmares at least twice a week.

It took Hermione nearly a week to convince Neville (and herself if she was being honest which she always tried to be) to ask Harry to tutor them. She wanted to know everything she could but realized that she wasn't going to learn anything in Defense that didn't come from the text and that didn't tell you _how_ to cast a curse, just what it was and did. She was surprised when Harry agreed but warned her he wouldn't waste his time, not that she blamed him. Besides, if he was busy spending time tutoring the other first years then maybe she could catch up with him, though that wasn't why she wanted him to teach her. It was just a maybe perk.

The first tutoring sessions were both embarrassing, when Harry called her out in front of everyone for taking notes and when she saw exactly how far she was behind Harry, and exhilarating when she realized how much she'd learn from him. It was going to be hard work but Hermione Jane Granger had _never_ shrunk away from work before in her life and she certainly wasn't going to start now.

She, of course, got the spell right on the second try. But Harry had the nerve to tell her that she needed to work on her aim and the power she put behind the Stinging Hex. Oh she could just _hit_ him!

In the next four sessions of tutoring, Harry made sure everyone knew how to cast the spells and worked on the power they put behind each spell, having them cast the spell over and over again until they weren't over or under powering them. Hermione had worked harder than everyone else but her aim was still off. That irked her but she never expected to get herself into a situation where she'd have to learn to hit another target. Person. Where she'd have to hit a person.

Hermione was still jealous of Harry but she didn't dislike him as much anymore. He really was a talented person and Hermione respected that even if he was a jerk.

**Albus Dumbledore**

Albus Dumbledore's life had been good for the last ten years. No, that wasn't exactly true as all the way until three years after Voldemort was defeated they were still catching hints of dark activity that could only belong to Voldemort and he was still called to the Wizengamot every few days, but around year five things had calmed down a great deal to the point where he was only called to the Wizengamot every four months, just like it had been before Voldemort's rise.

That was until last August when Cornelius Oswald Fudge became the new Minister of Magic. That's when the owls asking everything from whether he should lower the restrictions on Beasts (to which Albus said yes) to whether he should raise the restrictions on broom usage (to which Albus said no). It wasn't that Cornelius was stupid or even all that incompetent, he was just so insecure that he couldn't seem to make any decisions on his own. It was true, after all, that Ministers were more likely to be replaced in the first year of their term than in all the time after.

It wasn't until Harry Potter was introduced back into the Wizarding World that Albus' tension level went through the roof. He was sure that if Harry was to be attacked it would be within the month and a half before he went to Hogwarts after being re-introduced to the Wizarding World.

And he'd been right to get Fawkes to tell him immediately if any of the alarms went off. It was a good thing he did because in the middle of a meeting with Filius and Minerva, Fawkes appeared and dragged the three of them off to Privet Drive before disappearing. One of the most horrifying sights Albus had ever seen was at that moment. Vernon Dursley, one of the people Albus left Harry Potter with, was standing over the boy who was bleeding and had clearly been attacked _by_ Dursley. What was worse Dudley Dursley was standing in a doorway, that looked like it led to the lounge, and laughing as if this was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. And Petunia, Petunia stood there, satisfied, as if happy with every ounce of her being that Harry was being hurt. It had been sickening and Albus felt, for the first time in nearly eighty years, ashamed and heartsick over something he'd done. Because he was just as responsible for Harry being attack as Vernon or Petunia Dursley.

Over the next week, he had to do some major manipulation to get Fudge to do as he wanted. By the end of it, he finally convinced the Minister to hold the elder Dursley's in a holding cell and to allow the younger one to go to a Muggle head shrinker and allow them to decide what to do with the boy. Fudge decided to keep the two Dursley's locked up until after Christmas, letting them stew in their juices, so to speak. It had really been Albus' idea, to give Harry time to recover and get used to the Wizarding World, but it was always better to lead a person where you wanted them to go but make it seem like their idea.

The letter from the mysterious Blue was enough to cause a panic in Albus. After all, this person, though Albus was sure it was a male, had somehow gotten information on one of his students without anyone, even the student, being aware of it. Someone had to have very close contact with a person to get such information. Unless the mysterious Blue had the information before the school term and decided not to say anything because he wanted Albus and Minerva to convince Augusta that it was the right move for her Grandchild. That was always a possibility.

When Harry hadn't shown any interest in Yule, Albus had felt even more guilty more so that seeing Vernon standing over Harry looking like a madman. Physical wounds, as anyone could tell you, were easily taken care of with just a wave of a wand, but mental and emotional wounds? The best mind healers in the world weren't perfect and couldn't help every single person they came across. It was a sad day in the world when a child didn't know what Yule meant.

On the whole though, Albus was frightened both for and of Harry. He was clearly a powerfully driven person and reminded Albus more and more of Tom Riddle. The two main differences he saw between the two was that Tom Riddle had never _helped_ a person in his life. If a person wasn't already powerful and useful to Riddle then Riddle didn't even see them. Harry Potter, though, while powerful and curt with nearly everyone, was also very compassionate. He'd seen the boy helping Neville Longbottom out by the lake and seen him running with a group of boys. He'd seen him drop from the front of the pack, clearly he was much more capable than the other boys, to the very back to help one of the less fit students keep up. He'd seen Neville and Harry meditating and didn't know exactly what they were doing but knew that it was helping the brown haired boy.

Yes, Harry reminded Albus of Tom Riddle, and a younger Albus Dumbledore, if he was honest, but he was also completely different from both youths.

**Seamus Finnigan**

Seamus Finnigan was Irish and quite proud of it. Anyone who had a problem with that could go hang themselves. He was a wizard and was quite proud of that as well. He wasn't a pureblood, though his mother was and his children's children would be considered so. His father was a Muggle and he was proud and happy for that as he got the best of both worlds (after all, there were only so many Quidditch games each year and Football was a load of fun _and_ played in the Quidditch off season. It helped that his Da was a Football fanatic and his Ma a Quidditch fanatic both having played in the minors). Seamus knew that some people didn't like him because he was a happy, cheerful person but his only comments to those poor individuals was 'well bully on you!' He liked who he was, he loved his family, and had the best friend a boy could have in Dean Thomas.

So when he was put in Gryffindor with Dean (he thought he'd be a Hufflepuff and Dean a Ravenclaw) he couldn't have been happier and that was God's Truth. He was even more excited when he found out that Harry Potter, _the _Boy-Who-Lived, was at Hogwarts as well since he hadn't been on the train. Seamus had stared at the small dark haired boy just like everyone else and had listened to his share of rumors about the Ravenclaw who didn't speak to anyone as far as Seamus could tell.

So he'd been surprised when the dark haired Ravenclaw had stopped Seamus in the Infirmary and asked to see him after the other boy was done with his check up. Seamus hadn't really wanted to; he had been busy playing games in the Gryffindor Common Room before one of the Weasley Twins cast a spell on him to make him stink like a dungbomb. Dean had made him go to Madam Pomfrey to get it reversed and he still had to think up revenge on them.

But when the Boy-Who-Lived asked you to do something, you did it. So he waited for the other boy and felt a little uneasy when he was led to an empty classroom. He remembered, suddenly, some of the rumors that went around about the boy being the next dark lord and how Voldemort only went after him to get rid of a rival. Seamus had always found such rumors to be nonsense, after all how much of a rival could a baby be? But the unease was still there.

So when Harry showed him how to turn water into rum, well it wasn't real rum but it tasted like it and that was good enough for Seamus at the moment, he'd been pleasantly surprised. He was even more surprised when Harry started up a defense club and taught them all kinds of fun stuff that Quirrell hadn't. Seamus had learned more in one lesson with Harry than he had in the entire two months he'd been under the defense professor's tutelage.

He'd seen, however, how lonely Harry looked at the beginning of November (right after the Troll attacked him which must have been brilliant fun!) and had felt a little sorry for him. Something Seamus felt odd about because Harry Potter was rich, famous and could have just about anything in the world if he only asked for it. When the dark haired boy made overturns of wanting to be friends – Seamus had missed it really but Dean had pointed it out to him when he'd talked at the black boy. Dean was always good for catching what Seamus missed, it's what made them such good friends – Seamus had gone along with it and started studying with the other boy in the library when he was there alone. He would've been studying with Harry more but the stuck up Ravenclaws threatened him with a great deal of bodily harm if he tried to study with them again and Seamus liked all his limbs in one piece, thank you very much. There was nothing, Seamus was sure, that was scarier than a Ravenclaw who thought you were impeding on their study time.

Seamus found Harry to be a really stand up lad, always willing to lend a hand when Seamus didn't understand something (which was more often than the sandy-haired boy liked to admit) but really shy, which flabbergasted Seamus. He'd never thought that Harry would be anything but brave and powerful and willing to help out little kittens and slay dragons and everything. Never once had he thought that his new friend would be something as silly as shy.

Course, other people didn't see that and just thought he didn't want to talk to anyone or was a snob but he'd slowly seen even that change when Harry sat with him at the Gryffindor table.

When people found out that Seamus was friends with him they'd flocked to him and started asking him all kinds of questions, questions that Seamus didn't know the answers to and frankly didn't care to know the answers to. He had nearly stopped being friends with Harry but Seamus' Da had told him that he should continue to be friends with the boy if he liked him so that's what Seamus decided to do. Harry was a nice person and he liked him even if he wasn't keen on all the attention that brought him.

When he found out that Harry was going to be staying at the Leaky Cauldron, he had felt a sense of relief. The little Harry had mentioned about his aunt and uncle didn't make them out to be good people and Seamus knew that Tom and Melinda were good people because his Ma was friends with them. They'd take care of Harry, he knew. But he also knew that Harry didn't know them so offered to contact Harry on the off chance he found he didn't like Melinda and Tom. Seamus knew he couldn't do much to help Harry but as his friend he would do whatever he could.

**Minerva McGonagall**

Minerva McGonagall was a spry seventy-six year old woman and quite able to keep up with and beat the young kits she taught, thank you very much and had no problem saying so.

Minerva looked out over the Great Hall as she scrutinized her domain. Because no matter that Albus Dumbledore, her good friend, colleague and mentor was the public figure of Hogwarts and did run it very well, she was the one who truly made sure Hogwarts ran like a well oiled machine.

Minerva organized the classes, took care of the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl, kept (most) of the teachers in line, saw that the house-elves did what they were supposed to, saw to it that the school got the supplies it needed without being cheated or robbed blind, made sure Severus was making the potions for the hospital wing without going off on his little side deals using school ingredients (for which he was known to do if not watched closely) and that he didn't make any poor first years cry, made sure Trelawney didn't terrify her third years too badly with her death omens (by ensuring they had her after their first lesson with the Fraud) and that she didn't show up to class drunk out of her mind. She made sure Flitwick taught what he was supposed to instead of going off on intellectual debates as he was known to do more often than he should, made sure Albus didn't pass out enough sweets to give all the children in Hogwarts a sugar high, made sure the students were all safe and as happy as they could be, dried tears for the homesick and comforted the heartsick. All in all, she did more than any one woman should've been able to do even with substantial use of the time-turners that all the professor's made use of.

As she looked out at her students, she felt for the first time in a very long time old, worn out and just plain tired. She saw yet another generation of Weasleys torturing each other and other students, though they were at least good natured about it. She saw her latest generation of Potters. She had a soft place in her heart for Potter's because she would've been one if her fiancée hadn't been killed by a rising Dark Lord - she'd gone to school with Harry Potter's great grandfather and great grand uncle who she'd been set to marry, taught his grandfather and father and now Harry himself.

Yes, she had a soft spot for them but it seemed this one was determined to get farther and farther under her skin than most. Indeed, this one student looked to be one of her favorite of all times. Not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, or whatever other moniker the public deemed fit to give him, but because he was one of the most intelligent people Minerva had ever met and because he was so humble about everything. Shy and a sweetheart.

It was too bad that Minerva had done her best to close her heart to her students. Indeed she had taught students through the better part of two wars (even though one had been nearly forgotten by most people following so closely on the heels of Grindelwald and followed so closely by Voldemort) and had seen too many of her best and brightest leave Hogwarts only to wind up murdered just weeks or months later. It was enough to break anyone's heart and she grew weary of it.

Every time Minerva thought of the people --- her students who'd died during the two wars --- the only thing she could think of was 'is there anything I could have done? Could I have prepared them better? If I'd taught them more defensive oriented spells would it have made a difference?' After all, as anyone who'd ever seen Albus Dumbledore duel, Transfiguration was a very effective means of dueling. Better in some cases than outright offensive spells. But no matter what she told herself, she still had to teach what the Ministry considered important and teaching students to duel using Transfiguration wasn't on the List of Approved.

So many wasted lives. So many dead. And all because the Ministry was afraid that the peasants would rise up and attack them. Not that they didn't deserve it but most people were content to sit back and cluck about the state of the world without actually doing anything about it. Unless it effected them. Then they usually just made things worse than they would've been if they kept their beaks out of it.

Minerva sometimes regretted the fact that she couldn't beat common sense and logic into her students. But it was too easy for people to forget or ignore logic when with the wave of a wand they could break all the Laws of Nature as Muggles knew them. Logic wasn't part of the Wizarding world because there was almost nothing that was impossible if you were willing to work for it.

Some Muggleborns felt, at first, that the wizarding world wasn't progressive because it used quills in place of pens and parchment instead of paper. Or because a great deal of witches and wizards bartered for their goods. Indeed, as the Weasley's proved time and again, you didn't _need_ money to get by in their world. Molly Weasley was famous the world over for her homemade goods from jam to bread, from her tomatoes to her peppers. Arthur Weasley rarely had to pay for anything except their Hogwarts supplies and clothes. If Molly wasn't so worried about leaving her children at home alone (not that Minerva blamed her with those twins running about) she could've made a good living as a healer as well. Top of her class, Molly Weasley was and a damn fine woman to have raised even one child as intelligent, moral and stable as she had, let alone seven.

Minerva watched Harry Potter smile his awful parody of a smile that never reached his eyes. Oh, he tried to smile, she could see that as clearly as she could see that he had green eyes, he tried to feel joy but his emotions were so overwhelmed by sorrow and pain that the more positive feelings he had rarely showed in his eyes.

Minerva thought back to all the students she'd taught, all the innocent smiling faces nervous as they entered the Great Hall then thought back to reading in the news who'd died that day or who'd gone missing or who'd gone to jail. Minerva sometimes wondered how much more of life she could take before she just stopped caring. Already she'd noticed it. She'd been closer to these children's parents than she was to the children and closer to the grandparents than the parents. She wasn't sure if her heart could take watching them, loving them, and watching them die again.

Minerva had never had children of her blood but she'd had hundreds of children of her heart. She'd read once that watching a child die was the most painful thing a person could do. She knew that better than perhaps anyone.

**Sirius Black**

Sirius Black was in the retirement home of the criminally insane. Not that everyone was insane when they entered the facility but they were definitely insane within a short while of their stay due to the marvelous food, the sterling conditions, the bright sunlight and fresh air. It was enough to drive anyone mad. Disgusting really.

Sirius stared up at the ceiling, glad more than he'd ever been before - except ten seconds ago when he'd thought the same thing and every few minutes for the last ten or twenty or thirty years because who really knew what year it was? - and what had he been thinking of? Did it really matter?

Oh yes, he was glad that he was an Animagus. Really glad. Smashingly glad! Or something like that.

Sirius was glad that his dad or mum had taught him so well and thoroughly and had been so enamored with the idea that he'd become a Gryffindor because he wanted to spy on the blood traitors. Not that he was. He'd been spying on his family. Well his blood family. Jimmy and Lils _had_ been his family. Harry _was_ his family.

They'd made him powerful in will and determination before he'd even entered his second year at Hogwarts that this place was like a walk through the first year greenhouses it was so easy. His family made him powerful and knowledgeable. He must have known more spells (both light and dark) when he arrived at Hogwarts as most people knew _leaving_ Hogwarts. His Mum had taught him Occlumency and Legilimency before Hogwarts and he'd just gotten better and better at it throughout the years. It helped keep him saner – more saner? – than other people in good old Azkaban. Of course it helped that Occlumency wasn't really magic, even Muggles could learn it so the magic dampeners that were so hard to get around to turn into Padfoot didn't affect his -

Oh what the hell is that? Didn't they know it was rude to interrupt people's internal monologues? Mail? Who'd be sending him mail?

**Dear Sirius Black,**

**Please solemnly swear.**

**Yours**

**H J Prongs Jr**

Solemnly swear? Where had he heard that before? It seemed to be important but you could never tell with his mind. What had he been thinking before this rude piece of mail showed up? Sirius changed back to Padfoot and lay down on the floor.

Wait... Prongs sounded familiar. Where was Prongs from? Sirius thought harder than he'd thought in years. Then he turned back into Sirius instead of Padfoot and could think clearer than he had in years. Prongs...God, Prongs was James! James Potter and Prongs Junior was Harry! Harry's writing!

Solemnly swear? He really did know that phrase. Knew it like the back of his hand. _Well,_ he thought,_ glancing down at said hand. Like I knew Hogwarts at least._

"I solemnly swear I'm up to good. No good. I solemnly swear that I am up to NO good. Because I'm never up to good. What are you thinking Padfoot old boy?" But even he was surprised by his voice. Croaky and harsh and not his wonderfully smooth, rich voice that could get girls to shed their knickers like they were going out of style.

The letter disappeared suddenly and a huge box appeared next to it. When Sirius read the letter, he activated the items first, getting a real meal and keep the Dementors away, especially keeping the Dementors away were way more important than a cruddy letter, he picked up the potions and drank them down.

When he finished with the potions he started the letter again. By the end of it he was making an odd choking noise, his body was jerking wildly and it took him a second to realize that he wanted to cry but his body had forgotten how to and settled on the strangest thing he'd ever witness and this was _his_ body, damn it! He would have control!

Ooo look broth! And since when was he excited by _broth_? His standards had really fallen silence his stay in this hell hole.

And quills! And parchment! But no! He hated homework.

_Get a hold of yourself Padfoot, this is a letter to Harry not a homework assignment. It has to be good so you don't scare him away. He's counting on you. You're his Godfather. Gotta be... broth! So tired... sleepy; wonder globe makes everything so better._

Sirius lay down on his bed and took a nap. When he woke up he felt better than he had in years. For as long as he could remember. Like that time he spent with Jimmy and Mr. and Mrs. Potter at the Potter Estate.

It took him three hours to write the letter, mostly because he kept going off on how many cracks there was in the ceiling and how many different colors gray could be and had to erase and start the letter again so many times.

**Luna Lovegood**

Luna Lovegood was in the back garden, looking for a nest of Blibbering Humdinger, which liked to live in the land around her father's house. She'd never actually seen one but she was sure they were there because the footprints were on the ground every morning when she put out raw meat. So they had to exist and those sorry people who didn't believe in them were just _odd_.

Of course, her Mummy had thought her Daddy was silly, she remembered that, and had always laughed – though she was always light and kind and teasing about it, not mean like some of the people out there – when Daddy spoke about them but she'd never, ever told Daddy that she didn't believe him and that they couldn't exist so Luna took that to mean, correctly she was sure, that her Mummy had believed in the creatures too and, since her Mummy had been one of the most intelligent people in the world, Luna believed in them too.

Luna had a good life with a Daddy who loved her and all kinds of creatures that kept her company and was happy with it. Even if she missed her friend Ginny who had stopped being friends with her when her Mummy had died. She was still happy.

Next year she'd go to Hogwarts and met lots of new people and there'd be more creatures there because everyone knew most magical creatures were attracted to places with high concentrations of magic so it only made sense that she'd at _least_ see a Wrackspurt which might be easier to see in Hogwarts.

And maybe Ginny would like her again at Hogwarts. She'd have to wait and see.

* * *

**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added:** October 30, 2009


	12. Chapter 16: Inn and Out

**Title: A New Chance Continued**

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N: **Hey everyone. Four thanksgivings (all on different days when I was expected to make at least three dishes for each) eight Christmas parties (again the same as Thanksgiving) my birthday (woot 22) and then Christmas at my/my mom's house was the reason for the delay. On the other hand for my birthday my parents got me a new computer (win 7 thank you god) and for Christmas I got a new 20" flat screen. I wasn't supposed to get a computer for my birthday but mine suddenly died. Blah. And I don't have a job so my parents are the best in the world for getting me a new one.

In other news. My new computer and screen make me really want to write. However I have no idea how the British court system works and I really need to know to continue with the chapter. So I need someone who knows to explain the basics to me. I've looked and looked but can't find anything about it. Any help would be greatly appreciated.

I keep meaning to post this here but I've created a yahoo group. Basically all it is right now is a bunch of floor plans so you can see what I was trying to show you but might not have done such a good job. http:// groups. /group /pyrodaemon87/. I hope that comes out right.

I think that's everything.

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen  
**

**Inn and Out**

Harry Potter dropped the old newspaper he'd made into a portkey and took off running as fast as he could. He knew the Trace didn't report on him because part of his magic was 'adult' but portkeys, especially those coming from other countries, appeared as a big fat red light and soon a team of Aurors would be there to check out the scene and Harry had to be long gone by then.

It was a good thing Harry knew so much about this part of the country as he did. He'd known the Weasleys for years and had fought and bled with Bill and Charlie Weasley. He'd gotten to know Romania through Charlie when they had to hide out near the Dragon Reserve to keep themselves alive. He'd also gotten to know the parts of Egypt and South America that Bill Weasley worked in after he left Hogwarts very well.

He moved toward a cave he knew was there; he'd spent nearly three months hiding out there once with Charlie, Bill and Flo Davids. Flo had been Charlie's on-again off-again girlfriend before the war started and had joined up with them when Hogwarts was destroyed. Her reluctance to fight in a war that had nothing to do with her melted when her entire family had been killed at Hogwarts. In the later part of the war, when most of the Resistance had been scattered and there wasn't a Headquarters anymore, the four of them had retreated to Romania. They'd gotten to know each other pretty well during those months. You got to know the people who saved your neck and who you trusted to protect your back. It was something most people couldn't understand, not unless they lived through life threatening situations.

Harry slipped around the large rock that hid the entrance to the cave and nodded when he saw that it was still set up as a hide-away. Charlie Weasley, even before the war, had always believed in being prepared for everything. It's what made him such a good fighter and how he survived through everything.

Harry looked around the cave with a pensive look as he remembered the reason Charlie had this cave set up initially, which had nothing to do with wars of any type. It was because Dragon Handlers had to fear something far more dangerous than the dragons they swore to look after. Dragon's were worth a lot of money and, despite having magic resistant hides, weren't very hard to take down. Not when you compared it to creatures such as Basilisks, Chimaeras, Erumpents, Graphorns, Griffins and Manticores who were nearly impossible to kill in such a way as long as their 'useful' parts are intact. So it was common enough for poachers to get together in a large group and attack a dragon reserve, killing the Dragon Handlers as easily as the dragons themselves. Easier because the Handlers weren't magic resistant.

All Dragon Handlers, the smart ones anyway, had safe 'houses' near the reserve where they could get to in the confusion of others being attacked and hope you were faster than your fellow Handlers. It's why most Dragon Handlers had at least a very good grounding in defense. It had made Charlie Weasley and his fellow Dragon Handlers very formidable during the war and much appreciated by both sides.

The last time he'd seen this particular cave was when Flo Davids had been killed. They'd just come back from a raid to find Death Eaters torturing a group of Muggles who'd been hiking in that part of the mountains. They all reacted as best they could, seeing as Harry's team had been just as surprised as the Death Eaters were to be confronted with the enemy. Add in the fact that they were exhausted from a firefight with another group of Death Eaters when they'd destroyed one of Voldemort's bases. Their odds hadn't looked very good. The Death Eaters were young, they couldn't have been more than sixteen or seventeen with just one older person who'd been in charge, but they were fresh.

Harry, Flo, Charlie and Bill killed six of them right off before the Death Eaters had known what was going on, reactions that had been ingrained in them from over a decade of fighting making the 'kill first ask later' instinct come to the forefront.

Harry frowned as he looked to the sleep area where Flo had drawn her last breath. They'd managed to kill all the Death Eaters relatively easily, relatively because it wasn't easy to kill even the weakest of the bastards, but the oldest had gotten one last curse off when it was apparent that he was going to die. He blasted a hole through Flo's torso, splattering her guts along the ground behind her. Bill (having the best healing skills out of the group due to his work as a curse breaker for Gringotts) and Harry (knowing how to cast only the most basic of healing spells) went to work trying to save the woman's life while Charlie held her hand and talked her through the pain they couldn't block. The blood stain on the floor had still been there when they left for the last time.

Harry shook himself from the memories and put on his illusion of Blue (him older with red hair, blue eyes, higher cheekbones and a more pointed chin to blend in with Weasleys) and went in search of the rat. Now that Harry was sure the Aurors wouldn't be able to find him and trace his magical signature, which showed up every time you Apparated but for some reason not on portkeys, he left the cave and made his way to the Dragon Camp. He moved silently through the compound, which was really nothing more than huts on the outside but huge apartments on the inside. He knew Ron had the little rat bastard and he was going to get him. At about this time of day, all the day handlers were out in the field and the night handlers were dead asleep so he should be safe enough. If not, well there were a great many people here and no one knew everyone, especially with family visiting people.

He quickly stepped through the door of the hotel and opened the guest registry book. _Weasley...Weasley...Ahha! Weasley Room 205, 207, 223 and 225._

Harry had learned long ago that the way to get around in places you weren't supposed to be was to look like you knew what you were doing. If you were breaking into someone's house, the easiest thing to do _wasn't_ to wear black and look like you were sneaking around. The right thing to do was to wear regular clothes and go inside through the front door. Act like a guest, grab a drink from the refrigerator and pretend like you're supposed to be there. That way if someone came home and caught you you had a reason to be there. 'What? I thought John Marcus lived here! This isn't his house? I'm so sorry! I must have gotten the address mixed up! I'm from out of town. Please, I'm so sorry! I'll pay for the drink!' That way no one tries to have you arrested.

Getting into wizarding hotels was easy. Wizards were an arrogant race and rarely ever locked their rooms (why should you when, if a person wanted to, they could just pop right into the room?) He Disillusioned himself and cast a notice-me-not charm on the door to room 205 so if someone was inside they wouldn't notice it being opened. A quick charm inside the slightly opened door proved that no one was inside (animal or human) so he closed the door again and dropped the charm and moved on to the next door. It wasn't until he got to room 225 that he found Scabbers.

Because he was invisible for all intents and purposes and Scabbers was used to the noise of the Burrow, Scabbers ignored the smell of a person entering the room. That is until a stunning spell hit him and knocked him out. His only thought was '_who the hell is this?'_

Harry quickly conjured up a cage and put an unbreakable charm and a growth charm on it. If Pettigrew wanted to transform the cage would grow with him, there was no way the bastard was going the way he'd gone the last time. Harry was sure it had been painful for all of point six seconds before he'd died but Pettigrew hadn't suffered like Harry wanted him. Becoming a full grown man inside a small glass box charmed not to break had never been enough for Harry. It didn't make up for all the lives Pettigrew had taken or all the suffering Sirius had gone through in Azkaban.

Harry canceled all the charms he had on the building and made his way as quickly as he walked through the camp. Waving to anyone who hailed him, he made his way to an outcrop of rocks where he made another portkey to the opposite side of London, and disappeared.

Harry landed and took off running before the English Aurors got there. It was damn annoying that they monitored portkeys going in and out of the country but that was just the way it went and he had to deal with it. He felt more than saw a group of Aurors appear and was slightly impressed at their speed. Then again, the Romanian government probably had words with the Ministry about rogue wizards.

Harry made his way slowly toward the Leaky Cauldron, watchful of wizards looking for him. Not that they could know it was Harry who'd made the jumps but it was still better to be safe than sorry. He slipped into his room through the side exit and checked on Pettigrew. He forced the rat to transform back to human and strip searched him. He found a knife, a wand, and what looked like one of those walking canes that blind people used. Harry shrugged and took all of Pettigrew's worldly goods and placed them in a box before stunning him again. He then hung the cage on a string from the ceiling and placed a thick, heavy blanket (with silencing and scent dampening spells) over the cage and blanket so Pettigrew couldn't see out of it. No sense in allowing Pettigrew to see who captured him.

"Harry, dear, are you in there?"

"Yes," Harry said, quickly making his way to the door and opening it for Melinda. "Can I help you?"

"I just wanted to make sure that was you. I heard someone come in." Melinda took a good long look at him. "You seem flushed, are you coming down with anything?"

"No...I-do you know how to get a hold of Headmaster Dumbledore?"

"Ah... I believe he's out of the country today visiting an old friend. But I do know he's going to be here tomorrow for a get together of some old friends from the Blood War. They come here every year. Why, dear?"

"Oh I just need to talk to him. It's not that important." Harry said, shrugging.

"I'm sure if it's important he'll come see you... well if you're sure dear..." Melinda studied him for a while longer. "I have a bit of free time. Do you want to go to Gringotts today?"

"All right." Harry grabbed a thick jumper knowing the look that Melinda threw at him when she saw he was just wearing a tee-shirt and cloak and hurried to the door.

They made their way through the Cauldron and into the Alley itself. In the Holiday rush no one noticed Harry, for which he was thankful for. They quickly made their way to the bank where Melinda had a word with one of the tellers before they were ushered into a rather lavish looking room. "I was told you are the Potter's guardian?"

"Yes, and my husband Tom." The Goblin nodded. "We wanted to know Harry's financial status."

The Goblin's lips curled slightly before he opened a folder and slid it to them. Harry glanced at it, never before having anything to do with his money or the Goblins. When he saw all the number's his eyes bulged. He had more money than even his great-great-great grandchildren could spend if they tried. And the properties! Dear god he had enough houses throughout the world to create his own good sized city!

Melinda cast a side-long glance at him and shook her head at the look on his face. "It looks like you'll never have to worry about money, my dear."

"Melinda I-you shouldn't pay for my education! I have more than-"

"Nonsense," Melinda patted his arm and looked back at his folder. "What am I going to do with the money?"

"Save it for your children?" Harry asked.

"They'll get plenty from us. The Cauldron makes more than enough money for us every year." Melinda's voice was absent as she turned the page and looked at something else. "Your stock portfolio is pathetic! How in the world did your parents expect you to live off this?"

"I rather think they thought I could live off the interest I generate." Harry's dry voice broke through her outraged fog.

Melinda looked up and smiled. "Yes, dear, only you can't touch the Potter's main money vault until you're sixteen and then you have a cap on how much you can spend. Your Trust only has enough to get you through Hogwarts but only if you live extremely conservatively. And how, may I ask, do they expect a boy to live conservatively?"

Harry blinked at the woman then shook his head. "Well, whatever you want to do to it is fine with me."

"Really?" Melinda looked like Christmas had come a week early. "You'll let me play around with it?"

"As long as I have money for books and stuff, you can do whatever you want." Harry gave her a shy half smile.

"Lovely!" Melinda beamed at him. "And you know I'm paying for your school supplies! Let's go to your Trust and get some money for gifts."

"Actually, I was wondering if my parents left a will."

The Goblin went through the folder on his desk. "Yes, it says here that the will was never executed due to Sirius Black going to prison. If you wish you can now activate the will."

"Yes, sir, I wish to."

"Very well," The Goblin tapped the parchment it was written on and watched it intently for a moment before it glowed a rainbow of colors. "Due to the deaths of James and Lily Potter the Will is now in effect. If you will come back on January the twentieth everyone will be gathered for the Will reading."

Harry nodded and stood up. He didn't expect to be able to get a look at his parents Will right away and the twentieth wasn't so far away that it would be agonizing to wait. So he went with Melinda to get his gold then moved back out to Diagon Alley to get gifts for all those he fought and bleed with.

By the time he got done shopping, he was exhausted and quite ready for sleep. He would never understand why women liked to shop.

_QsQsQsQsQsQsQ_

Harry woke up the next morning at four and knew he'd never get back to sleep. He sent Sirius a letter telling him he was working on a way to get him out. After that, he went running for the next four hours to get rid of some of the energy he had built up. He ran past where he'd portkeyed back to London and saw that two very bored looking Aurors were stationed. Harry thought it was a good thing they were wizards or they'd be freezing. He felt sorry for the Muggle police and guards that had to stand around in the cold.

By the time he was done with his run, the Dodderidges were up and getting ready for the day. Harry showered in his room and dressed for the day then sent Sirius some beef broth and some more potions.

The entire day, Harry spent in his room waiting for Dumbledore to get there. It would be his luck that _everyone_ arrived before Dumbledore. Alastor Moody, Dedalus Diggle, Elphias Doge, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Sturgis Podmore, and Emmeline Vance were apparently the only ones that could make it that year. It was nearly an hour into the party that Dumbledore showed up, which made talking to him alone harder than Harry wanted things to be. So he ignored everyone in the room and walked in carrying the cage with the blanket over it as well as both letters from 'Blue' and the one from Sirius.

"Excuse me, Professor, I know it's the holiday and you probably want to enjoy yourself but I feel this can't wait."

"Of course, Mr. Potter, my time is always available."

"Well... about a month ago I got a letter from a man – I assume it was a man at least – claiming that I needed to contact a man named Sirius Black, who was my Godfather and unjustly imprisoned in Azkaban." Harry gave the letter to the Headmaster then went on after the older man read it and looked back up at him. "I wrote to Sirius and received a rather long letter back that told me everything that happened. I don't know if... he was lying or not but here it is." Harry gave that letter over as well and stood there patiently while he read it. The Headmaster's ashen features told him when he was finished so he continued. "Yesterday I was out running and when I came back I found this cage," he took off the blanket and showed him the rat. "And this letter." He handed Dumbledore the second letter from 'Blue' as well as the cage. "I normally would dismiss letters from random people but... this is a little too much for me so I'm giving you the rat, and if you want copies of the letters you can have them as well, though I would like the originals back if that's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all." Dumbledore looked at him. "If this turns out to be Peter Pettigrew do you know what that means?"

"Proof that the Ministry is as incompetent as I suspect it is?" Harry asked with a slight smile. "But yes I do. Will they allow Sirius to go free? I understand that it will be very embarrassing for them to admit that they might have been duped this badly."

"If this is Peter then I will see to it Sirius Black goes free personally," Dumbledore said.

"And God help anyone who stands in your way," Harry held out another package for the older man. "Since you're here here's your Christmas present." Harry handed McGonagall and Flitwick theirs as well. "I wasn't sure if it was appropriate to give gifts to professors, as I've never given anyone a gift before, but Melinda said it was all right."

Harry watched them open the gifts, feeling an absurd tightness in his stomach which took him a moment to realize was nervousness as he hoped they liked the presents. "Socks!" Dumbledore delighted laugh relaxed Harry. "And earmuffs? Wonderful! I haven't received a good pair of socks in ages. How did you know I'd like them?"

"Well I didn't sir," Harry easily lied. "But I see how... much you seemed to like colorful robes and figured socks wouldn't be too far off the mark and if you didn't like them at least they're warm and no one can see them. I wasn't going to get the earmuffs but couldn't resist them. They're charmed to follow the patterns of your socks."

"Mr. Potter, how did you know I didn't have this book?" McGonagall asked.

"I recruited a spy," Harry's voice was perfectly bland as he looked at the older woman. "And for your gift as well Professor Flitwick."

"A spy?" McGonagall frowned, her expression grim. Harry knew she was imagining someone sneaking into her rooms and going through her things.

"Yes, ma'am. So many people overlook the House-elves but they really do make the best spies. I think they know everything about everyone in Hogwarts."

Several people laughed and Harry decided that it was time for him to make his excuses.

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Albus Dumbledore stared down at the socks in his hand as Harry Potter left the room.

He'd never quite believed that Black had betrayed the Potters, despite all evidence to the contrary. Black had been a fun loving but cruel boy growing up, due to the influence his family had on him in his formative years, but he had loved James Potter and later his son. He hadn't liked Lily at first because she took James' attention, but he had grown to love her as well. Just like everyone who came into contact with the loving red haired woman. If it had just been Lily targeted Albus would have believed Black behind it, much as he might have wished otherwise, but with James and Harry, Albus hadn't thought Sirius would've told Voldemort anything even under torture. Sirius would've died.

He hadn't believed it until Black had been tried and convicted. He'd been an accessory to murder, he'd been part of an illegal and unlawful terrorist group and he'd participated in the murder of at least one person, after all, to get the Dark Mark one had to commit murder. Afterwards he'd murdered one of his best friends and twelve Muggles. He'd clearly not broken away from the influence of his family after all.

But then, in less than three months, Albus had received two letters from the mysterious Blue. Both letters had involved the two children the prophecy could have been about (and Albus still wasn't certain that Neville wouldn't play an important role in the coming War) was more than disturbing. But the rat was an Animagus that had been tested by him and Minerva, so the results were sound. If it was Peter, then Black might not be guilty and if he wasn't... then an innocent man had spent years in hell and Albus was at fault.

How this Blue knew about Neville and Peter was something Albus would have to look into. Maybe he could send a letter to this Blue? Find out his purpose and what he plans to do with the information he collected? No one worked for free and this man, this Blue, seemed to be going to an awful lot of trouble for something that wasn't his concern. Knowing the man had most likely been near both boys at some point was enough to cause great alarm to course through every fiber of Albus' being.

Harry was very mature for his age, more mature than most adults Albus knew and he was very proud of the boy both for his scholastic prowess and for being such a good, strong person despite all he'd been through. When the children were back Albus would have to pull back from spying on the boy and get to know him better face to face. After all he hadn't done anything to set off alarms in all the time he'd been in the wizarding world even if Albus had lost track of him once or twice then again Hogwarts was quite well known for hiding students even from him as a small joke. Perhaps the boy would like more advanced training in Transfiguration in a few years. He wasn't ready yet, the boy had to build up his magic reserves and his physical body to handle the more advanced spells. Albus knew better than anyone how the state of your body and mind effected how well your spells came out. Age, madness and illness had destroyed a great many witches and wizards though time.

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The knowledge of Sirius Black's innocence spread through the Wizarding World as rapidly as a good scandal always did. When it was found out that the Ministry put a man in prison without even a sham of a trial, people were up in arms. The purebloods, especially, were demanding something be done. But Harry didn't expect anything to happen for at least two or three months. The Ministry would drag their heels and make everything worse for themselves.

The next night, Melinda and Tom sat him down. "Harry, you know that we enjoy having you here a great deal." Melinda said. "But when Sirius Black is released – he's your Godfather you see. And the Ministry will grant him guardianship of you."

"Oh yeah," Harry was surprised. He hadn't thought that far ahead but knew he didn't want to leave the Cauldron. Already, he'd been able to speak to several people and convince them Sirius Black was innocent. Leaving with Sirius had been his dream for nearly two years when he was a child and he would have given nearly anything to be able to live with him again. However, he wasn't a child anymore and couldn't hold with childish things. Maybe in a different time and place Sirius could've been his guardian but not now. Not now that he had so much to do to save his family. "I – couldn't I stay here?"

"Harry, don't you want to live with your Godfather?" Melinda asked, baffled.

"Do you not want me here?" Harry asked, feeling all mixed up inside. He knew he shouldn't feel hurt about it but he did.

"Of course we – well how about this: I'll speak to Mr. Black and we'll see what we can come up with. How's that sound?" Melinda said, smiling at him. Harry nodded and they spoke about things that didn't really matter for an hour before he went to bed.

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Harry lay on his bed and stared up at the ceiling. He got a lot done in the week leading up to Christmas but it didn't seem enough. He knew while at school his main priority was to learn as much as he could as fast as he could but it never seemed like enough. Lucius Malfoy was still out there, causing havoc and building up his power base and influence over the Minister. Macnair was executing magical creatures for a living. There were so many people he could be eliminating! He wouldn't even have to kill them, just destroy them in such a way they were never able to do any damage to another person. Maybe he'd whip up a potion that sealed a person's magic. That couldn't be that hard.

Or even better, cut down the amount of magic a person had. He'd have to make it untraceable, it wouldn't do for a potion master to get a hold of the recipe and decide that it would be the best way to start a new reign of terror. Or even worse, to unblock their magic.

Actually, that was a pretty good idea, if he could get it to work.

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Harry woke up Christmas morning with the knowledge that someone was in his room. He didn't jerk or speed up his breathing but his wand was in his hand and he was ready to incapacitate whoever the mysterious person was. Or people. It didn't make much difference to him.

There was a slight _bang_ from somewhere to his left which made him think someone banged their shin on the dresser. "Tom be quiet your going to wake him!" Melinda's voice came.

"I thought that was the point!" Tom hissed.

"Not by scaring him half to death!"

Someone touched his forehead and brushed the hair out of his face. "Harry, dear, wake up."

Harry opened his eyes and the lights on the room came on. "Melinda? Tom?"

"Good morning. It's Christmas." Melinda said and handed him his robe. "Come on, the presents aren't going to open themselves."

"Presents?" Harry frowned slightly before he remembered what Christmas meant and that at least Dumbledore was going to send him his father's Invisibility Cloak and the Dodderidges were sure to give him a present.

Harry was surprised by the large tree that was set up in the Dodderidges' loft and all the gifts beneath it. He was doubly surprised to find out that most of those gifts were for him. "I was surprised by how many people sent you things. From what Professor Dumbledore told me, you don't have very many friends but there you have it." Tom said smiling at him. He had on a bright red suit and a Father Christmas hat on. "Now sit down and I'll pass out gifts."

"This one is from me and the missus," Tom said, smiling as he handed him a gaily wrapped gift. Harry opened it to find a Rune book that he'd never heard of before. He wondered if it had anything to teach him.

The next gift was a defense book, slightly advanced for his age but nothing that would give him any trouble. He got a set of **Gobstones** and **Wizard's Chess. **** A **Wizarding Wireless to listen to music, three **Weird Sisters albums and four albums by Rock the Griffins. He got a magical **camera along with film and the developing solution, two everlasting candles, three boxes of Chocolate Frog, Self-Shuffling Playing Cards, Self-Correcting Ink, a lunascope, a penknife, Self-Inking Quill, a Revealer, silver knife, a potions kit which had nothing to do with school, several robes, trousers and shirts. Along with all of that, he also got underwear, socks, several new pointed hats to match his robes, a new pair of eyeglasses and a new pair of trainers and a dressier pair of shoes.

From his friends, he got books, lots and lots of books. Dumbledore sent him his invisibility cloak, and Flitwick and McGonagall got him a joint gift of all the Quidditch games played in the last decade on several small disks that slipped into Omnioculars and could be watched as many times as he wanted. They'd be good to pass the time when he was stuck in history at least. Astray got him a really cool set of Rune Writers, which looked a bit like Muggle wood burning tools but wasn't hot and would carve into any material. He'd meant to get himself one when he went shopping but hadn't gotten around to it.

The last gift, handed to him by Melinda, was a beautifully bound album with pictures of his parents and grandparents.

"I know how much you must miss your family, even if you didn't know them. This album was put together by me and Tom. The pictures were collected from everyone we knew of that had anything to do with your parents or grandparents. There are pictures of your aunts and uncles and cousins as well. If you tap your wand to the picture it will give as much information about the person as we have and a caption to the picture."

"Oh... I- thank you." Harry stared at the album and forgot everything else he had to do and the war for the next six hours as he learned more about his parents from practical strangers than anyone he'd loved in his last life.

Around five, Tom and Melinda's children appeared. Marcus worked for the Dragon Reserve in Romania but only knew Charlie Weasley in passing. He was twenty-two, short and skinny, and wasn't very attractive with a short nose, heavy brow, rounded chin, very large ears and hair that made him look like a scarecrow. His one nice feature, his eyes, were so blue they looked like someone took a tropical sea and replaced his eyes with it.

Amber and Joshua Bridgett had been married for seven years and had three children. Joshua was a Muggle but didn't seem to resent his wife or children for their magic. Amber didn't seem to quite know how to treat Harry so sat back and watched him carefully. Harry was sure she was a Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. She was relatively pretty with the same blue eyes as her brother but nothing else like him, other than his height; she looked a bit like a milkmaid from old pictures. Joshua raised horses in Ireland and looked like a farmer, large and brawny without much in the way of brains but was very, very handsome, though Harry knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

Their children were six, four, and eighteen months old. Douglas was the oldest followed by Isabella and Madison. Thankfully all three children took after their parents and grandmother instead of their uncle and grandfather and were attractive children.

Isabella immediately wanted to play house with Harry, Madison wanted to be held by him and not be put down and Douglas wanted to watch the Quidditch games on his Omnioculars, none of which Harry really had a problem with. Though, he was very awkward with Madison as he'd never even seen a toddler up close before. Not since he and Dudley were toddlers at least.

Madison was slightly fussy as she had a slight stomach ache and Isabella wanted to be the center of attention at all times and said some of the most outrageous things but they were good children and Harry didn't mind being around them.

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Christmas in the Granger household was the only day when Hermione Granger was not only allowed but actually encouraged to act like a child. She could rip into the paper her gift was wrapped in and throw it to the other side of the room and didn't get so much as a disapproving look. She could exclaim and squeal over her gifts and her parents just smiled indulgently. Now that she was a magical person (though technically she'd always been magical they just hadn't known it) her parents were able to get her gifts that interested her beyond the books that were the normal Christmas gifts.

This year, however, she got a gift that didn't come from her parents. Seeing as she didn't have grandparents or friends, this was something that made all the Grangers pause. The gift was wrapped in beautiful, clearly very expensive paper from the Wizarding world; the paper was very thick and done in a holly pattern on a soft gold background the only thing that marked it as magical was that the holly swayed very slightly as if in a breeze. This paper, Hermione didn't tear into. She wanted to save it in her box of treasures. The tag read "To Hermione J. Granger for being such a good student and for convincing me to start up the tutoring club. Best wishes, Harry J. Potter."

The gift was a book on dueling that she'd been trying to get her parents to buy her but they thought it was too advanced for her, too violent (as they didn't like the thought of her dueling which sounded too much like fist fights) and too expensive for something she'd never use. The next book was one that Hermione hadn't seen before but knew would help her in the future. It was written by a former Hogwarts student and explained the pros and cons of each of the classes as well as what careers you could get into based on what interested you.

Hermione felt a deep sense of shame and guilt. Here she'd been thinking all these horrible thoughts about Harry Potter and he was buying her a gift that was worth more than even the gift her best friend, Mary Lou Freeborn, had given her in all the time they'd been friends before she moved away. Not in monetary value, though Hermione knew both gifts were relatively expensive, but in what Hermione would get out of them. Harry Potter had given her a way to research careers and decide which one she wanted as a life goal.

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Neville Longbottom was used to the stilted Christmases of Longbottom Manor. Gran invited all her important friends from the Ministry and her women clubs who no longer had family of their own, which Neville wouldn't have minded if she didn't do it just to show off how rich and _better_ they were than other people. The artificial, pretentiousness of everything made Neville want to scream. But he just stood there, smiling at anyone who spoke to him. Gifts, Neville knew, wouldn't be opened until after the party. Gran told everyone it was so Neville would keep his attention on the guests but Neville knew it was so Gran had something to hold over his head. Be good or you won't get your gifts. The more you act out the longer it'll take to get them. One year, when he was eight, it had taken until the following October before he got his Christmas gifts, and by then he'd outgrown the clothes that would've fit. Gran, of course, just shrugged and told him it was his own fault for being such a rotten little boy.

Neville smiled at Madam Marchbanks as she went on and on about how hard the O.W.L.S would be and how much he was going to have to study. She wasn't being mean, he knew, because Marchbanks didn't have a mean bone in her body. She was just trying to prepare him for the difficulties ahead. "That's quite all right, Madam." Neville smiled at her. "Harry Potter created a tutoring program for my year. He's been teaching us defense and we're well above where we should be. Anything we have trouble with he makes the time to help us. He's quite the prodigy and is already taking Runes as a first year."

"Truly?" Marchbanks eyes widened in delight.

"Oh yes." Neville nodded. "He also set up a sports club of sorts and we run every morning. He's also teaching me to meditate."

"Mediation is very good for you." Marchbanks beamed at him. "And exercising your body is just as good for you as exercising your magic. Good on you!"

Neville grinned at the woman, pretending that he didn't see the scathing look from his Gran. At the end of the night, even though she didn't want to, Gran had to give him his gifts. He gave her a small bow and made his way to his room to open his gifts in private. Most of them were useless, his Great Uncle Algie gave him a child's broom – insulting him without being overt about it – and Great Aunt Enid gave him five formal robes which would seem like a good gift but were basically useless as the Longbottoms only attended two Balls a year. They might have been good for next year but Neville knew from experience that the robes would be too small by then. So Great Aunt Enid was telling him she was willing to spend a lot of money on him but not on things he might want or need.

Then he found the gift from Harry Potter, which stunned him into silence. He didn't know why the other boy would give him a gift (even when he'd given the other boy something) and wasn't sure he wanted to open it. What if Harry gave him something to prove that he thought Neville was a useless nobody?

Neville opened the wrapping paper and stared at the box in his lap. It was beautiful, a magical redwood (you could tell by the grain and how it flowed over the wood) with detailed designs on it in done in plant motifs. Neville didn't notice the runes on the bottom, mostly because he didn't turn it over, but if he had and could read them he would've seen that the box would hold anything you placed in it while putting it in stasis. It was also water, fire and weather proof.

Carefully opening the box, Neville's eyes widened as he stared at the seedlings before him. They were rare, he knew that much, and very useful to potions and healers alike. If Neville was careful and babied the plants, selling small bits off, they would give him enough pocket money to do whatever he wanted within reason.

However, even being a young and inexperienced herbalist, he could tell they weren't in good shape. But he was going to learn how to care for them and he was going to have a better supply than anyone else had of them. He wasn't going to waste the first real gift he could remember ever getting.

Along with all of that, sitting in an envelope that had gone unnoticed till now, was a small card that could be redeemed at Ollivander's for a new wand. Neville was sure that this was now the best Christmas he could ever remember having.

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Christmas at the Weasleys was much like every other day: loud, chaotic and messy. It was, perhaps, the only day in the Weasley household that everyone from the adults to the youngest child got up before sunrise. Breakfast was the last thing on the children's minds, unusual enough for the red haired family. Gifts were opened only after the Weasley children listened to their father read from the family prayer book. The Weasley's as a rule weren't extremely religious but there were still traditions they followed and this was one of them.

The children all wrote their names on a scrap of parchment and stuck them in Molly's witch's hat. She drew a name and that person was 'Santa'. This year for the first time was Ginny's turn.

No one was allowed to open a gift until the entire pile was given out. Ginny was slower than any of the other's would've been, given her tiny arms and legs, but with help from a bit of magic and hard work on her part everything was passed out. Ginny, being the youngest, also always got to open her gift either first or last. This year, she was first and so she happily tore into the gift her parents gave her. A beautiful necklace was revealed with a "GMW" in pretty writing and her birthstone in the v of the 'M'.

The Weasleys never got very many gifts as a rule but they appreciated what they did get.

Ginny's Weasley sweater was always a very pretty sapphire blue with a navy GM on it, so it was never confused with George's navy blue one. Surprisingly, there were other gifts with the Weasleys. Wrapped in beautiful, clearly very expensive paper, was a gift from Harry Potter. There were brand new robes for her in pretty colors. Purple, green and a set of Hogwarts robes, all charmed, the note said, to grow with her up to six inches tall and twelve in the waist and shoulders. Fred and George each got a twenty Galleon credit to any store in Diagon Alley they wanted, Percy got a book called 'Perfects Who Archived Power and What it Cost Them' (which though no one knew it was the _complete_ edition which also showed people who let power go to their heads and what it cost them) and a box of Owl Berries. Ron got a signed Quaffle from the Chudley Cannons and picture of them which they had all signed as well. Ron went bright red at the gifts – probably at the money spent on them if Ginny was to take a guess – but calmed at a word from his father. The next last gift was opened by Molly and held five pieces of paper. "Oh my!"

"What is it, Mummy?" Ginny asked knee walking over to her mom.

"They're lines of credit at Ollivander's to get new wands for you kids."

"From who, Mummy?"

"It doesn't say, sweetheart."

"Oh." But Ginny knew. The paper was different but just as expense as the paper that held her gift. She quickly took it and hid it in the pocket of her robe. She saw the look on Ron's face, which she recognized from the times he blew up at Billy and Charlie when they bought them nice things, and knew if Ron found out the wands came from Harry Potter as well he'd blow up and probably do something to make Harry Potter not like them. Ginny knew her brother was often stupid about a lot of things, much as she loved him, and selfishly didn't want him to ruin the source of such nice gifts.

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This Christmas was the same for Astray as all the ones she'd had since she started at Hogwarts as a student. As an only child to a father who was, at best, absentminded and, at worse, neglectful, she was used to spending Christmas alone. She'd stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas because it was better to at least eat meals with the Professors than alone at her big empty house. Her father wasn't a bad man, though. He bought her a lot of gifts throughout the year, which his house-elf made sure got to her, but she hadn't actually seen the man since she graduated from Hogwarts. She supposed the only way she'd know he died is when she didn't receive her gifts for Christmas and her birthday.

Making herself a cup of tea, she settled in to open her gifts. There were the ordinary ones from the other staff, chocolates and candies mostly. Some from her father were nice, though mostly as trinkets and keepsakes. There were also the usual chocolates from students trying to suck up or who genuinely liked her.

Then there was the gift from Harry Potter, which was interesting. A book she knew only by name. It was very rare (in there had only been two hundred copies made four hundred or so years ago) and would help her immensely in understanding Runes. There was also a comb, which had confused her at first, then made her grin when she read the instructions on it. That would certainly help her get ready in the morning and make her look more presentable than she normally did.

All around a great gift from a great kid.

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Melinda Dodderidge hummed as she slapped a slab of beef on the counter and turned away as it was cut up. It wasn't that Melinda was squeamish – no mother could afford to be squeamish whether or not they were magical – she just didn't like watching the blood leak from the meat as it was sliced into pieces. And the meat was fresh enough that it did, unfortunately.

The new girl would be showing up later that day and Melinda couldn't wait. She didn't know how this girl would work out, the last six had only lasted four months or less, but they'd see. The first test would be whether the girl could handle whatever Melinda threw at her, she'd move onto the room then she'd start cleaning the bar – dealing with Tom wasn't a picnic so it always came last. But first Melinda had to terrorize her just to make sure she was made of firmer stuff than the last two.

She shot a glance at Harry's room as she heard a bang then mild cursing. It sounded like a book dropping to her so she wasn't worried. If the boy got hurt then an alarm would sound, after all. Melinda worried about giving him such freedom, after all, she knew Molly Weasley didn't even let her children in the Alley alone, let alone move around London. Then again, Molly had so coddled her children that they would have a harder time making it on their own than other children. The only reason the oldest two were so well adjusted was because they lived in dorm type situations where all their meals were made for them and house-elves cleaned their apartments. The youngest two had been so spoiled by her that they'd be in for a rude awakening when they didn't have mummy to wipe up their spilled milk.

Harry, according to Albus, had been taking care of himself for ages and ages. The Dursleys hadn't cared what he did, how he did it or who he did it with. Putting restrictions on the boy now would just make him rebel and that would be bad all around because he was such an intelligent, good-natured, not to mention very powerful, boy and him rebelling could get someone seriously hurt. So making sure he was safe within the parameters that had been set for him his entire life was the only safe way Melinda saw the boy recovering from the abuse. Him knowing that her and Tom cared about him and wanted him to be safe had to be enough.

It seemed to work too. He'd bought more Christmas gifts than he had friends and had been very generous with them. He even got Melinda and Tom gifts. A pretty jade necklace for her, a watch for Tom, magical cleaning rags and a scrub brush that never got dirty and would follow the instructions given to them. Say she decided to scrub the floor, all she had to do was use the brush to do so and it would do that action every time she activated it until she reset the brush.

Harry was a good person, and a kind one despite the gruff manner he projected to the world. She was sure that was due to shyness, uncertainty in social situations and him acclimating himself to this new world.

He'd be fine, Melinda was sure. He was a great kid and had already done a lot for the world. God wouldn't repay him for saving all the lives he did just to make him suffer the rest of his own.

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**A/N2:** There have been some seriously annoying questions about Harry learning Runes like he is. Some people are saying things like 'you've destroyed the story having a boy who was locked in a closet know so much about something he shouldn't even know as a first year'.

Harry's excuse of knowing _potions_ so well is that he was locked in his closet. Harry knows Runes because he's a natural at them. He reads them like their English and can write them perfectly without specialized tools like other people have to use. He only needs to look up different uses for Runes (though some times he doesn't bother because he can do it better) but they aren't hard to him. Its like us reading Of Mice and Men and just understand the underlying morals and messages of the book without having to think about it. Or looking more exactly like being able to solve extremely complex math problems in his head without being taught the theories. Is that possible for people? Probably not. But this is a work of fiction in a place where a man split his soul into seven distinct pieces and lived as 'less than the meanest ghost' for thirteen years give or take a few months. Am I taking liberties with the world? Yes. Do I care that you don't like it? Not really. There are thousand of fanfics out there that follow cannon perfectly with only a few witty barbs thrown in occasionally. Go read those and don't complain about me changing the world too much to be believable. No one but another natural can even come close to him in this. This is Harry's superpower. Its the only place where the only advantage he has over his peers can't be solved with age. I'm not planning to make Harry kill Voldemort through their connected scars the first time Harry has sex (which I've seen in plenty of fics) because Voldemort can't stand the overwhelming love a sixteen year old boy feels for his girlfriend which IS NOT lust in the least nor can it be confused with lust because he's Harry Potter and (s)he's Ginny Weasley-Draco Malfoy- Snape- Hermione Granger and they're too level headed for that. That's far fetched. I'm also not making him the Heir of Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Merlin, God blah blah blah.

Now please don't take offense if your story is like the above examples. I've read some stories where Harry did kill Voldemort that way and or he was the heir of everyone who was ever important and his uncle and I liked them (even if I found them a little excessive) because they were well written and enjoyable.

But please don't tell me that I've ruined my story because I made Harry a natural Rune reader when you didn't even read the chapter well enough to read that he was a natural and what that entitled. For those of you who didn't do that please don't think this is aimed at you. For those of you who did this still might not be aimed at you. I've just had a person who's been badgering me about it and sending me PMs every few days about it. Though if they really hate my story that much I can't imagine why they would take the time to read this many chapters and complain to me about their stupidity.

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**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added:** December 25, 2009


	13. Chapter 17: Whimsical Lunacy

**Title: A New Chance Continued**

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl (any mistakes are on me)

**Website:** /group /pyrodaemon87/ its ya hoo in the beginning but FFN keeps taking out the ya hoo.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N: **Hey everyone. So there's really no excuse for not updating for a little under 10 months. There were a lot of things going on in my life. Good thing is my parents agreed to let me live at their house for free if I went to college, which I had wanted to do all along but didn't have the money or time. So I'm now in college and have been since Jam 5th. It's very interesting. Not as hard as I thought it would be but much more time consuming than high school.

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**Chapter Seventeen**

**Whimsical Lunacy**

The day after Christmas found Harry sitting outside in the warmed area of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor when a blond girl slipped and slammed into him. If he hadn't seen the movement out of the corner of his eye and braced himself, he would have fallen out of the chair. "Oh sorry, the _mummarts_ must have tripped me."

"That's all right." Harry glanced at her. Uncombed, slightly dirty, light blonde hair, pale blue-silver eyes, a pointed face and pale blonde eyebrows that were only noticeable if you were looking for them, gave the girl a permanently surprised look. He vaguely recognized her, but couldn't, for the life of him, remember from where. If he didn't know better he would have said she was a Malfoy. But he did know better because he knew everything there was to know about the Malfoys and most of the other Death Eaters. "Are you all right?"

"Thank you, but I'm quite all right." The girl smiled at him in a very misty, dreamy way, but her eyes seemed focused on something he couldn't see even when he looked over his shoulder at the wall she seemed to be looking at. "You are Harry Potter."

"Er..." Harry flattened down his hair but his scar hadn't been showing. "Yes, how did you know?"

"A Flutterby Whimsy told me."

"A what?"

"A Flutterby Whimsy; they're small fairy-like creatures who float around areas of high magical concentration like Diagon Alley and Hogwarts because they survive off the ambient magic. They're a close relative of the fairies that decorate Yule trees. They often tell me things that seem trivial but really aren't." The dreamy quality to the girl's face hadn't changed at all throughout the entire conversation, as if she talked to celebrities _and_ creatures that told her odd things every day.

"I see." Though he really had no idea what a Flutterby Whimsy was he didn't know most of the magical creatures in the world, only the ones he was most likely to encounter in England or whatever Charlie and Bill thought he needed to learn around. In other words: dangerous creatures. "Are you here for a reason? Where are your parents?"

"My mother has been dead for a year and my father runs a paper from that office," She pointed to a lilac building with hot pink lines running horizontally on the middle third. "I'm here to get some lunch. Daddy made sauerkraut sandwiches again forgetting that I quite detest sauerkraut. I usually eat here every day and get an ice-cream later in the afternoon."

"I see." Harry watched her go to the counter and order a very healthy lunch that consisted mostly of vegetables. She came back and sat down but Harry found he wasn't irritated by it in the least. She was a very quiet eater and didn't stare at him. Instead, she stared off into space and nodded occasionally as if she was listening to someone even though no one was talking. When she was finished with her lunch, she left the tray at the table and moved around to his side. "I think I quite forgot to introduce myself. I'm Luna Lovegood. It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry Potter." And with that she went back to the brightly colored building. Harry watched her until she entered the building, not that he expected anything to happen to her but she couldn't have been more than eight years old and was really too young to be walking around a crowded Alley like this without someone watching her. Then again, most people would say the same about him.

He couldn't believe that he'd forgotten Luna. She was one of the most unforgettable people he'd ever met. Then again, her hair was a very light shade of blonde, where he'd always known her as more a dirty blonde, and her face was far different than it had been when he'd known her. Also, her eyes were blue; instead of the mercury they had been when he'd originally met her. The dreaminess had been there, but the perpetually surprised look wasn't. For some reason, this tiny Luna's features fit her better than the older one's had, or maybe Harry was less harsh on his judgment of physical characteristics. Harry couldn't quite remember what happened to Luna in the future, her and her father had just disappeared and everyone assumed they'd packed up and left. Harry couldn't remember hearing anything else about the girl.

She'd been a good duelist; he'd learned that from Dumbledore's Army — unpredictable and fast. She'd used the oddest charms at times when Harry never would have thought to use them – or use them period as with the castration curse, but he didn't know a man out there who would use that. She hadn't been particularly fast on her feet but she'd been flexible and could bend at near 180 degree angles. She'd moved through a duel like she was dancing – like she did everything in life – absently and gracefully but managing to make it all look like a complete accident; though that could also have been the surprised look that had been planted on her face due to her light colored eyebrows.

She'd been a good friend, Harry remembered with surprise, despite how little time he'd known her and how embarrassed he was some – most – of the time he'd been around her. She'd been loyal and had known what he felt better than most people.

Harry glanced back at her tray, intending to throw it away himself, blinked, and then shook his head. Her spot was completely clean, even the place where she had spilled her dipping sauce.

Harry activated his mage sight and grinned when he saw Hieroglyphs. Ax, Dsr, kA, tp. This roughly meant the table was supposed to clean itself when a person decided he or she was done and left. Harry wondered why the Cauldron didn't have something similar on the tables before dismissing the thought and going back to what was left of his own lunch and his book.

When he got back to the Cauldron around 1:30, Dumbledore and two people Harry didn't know where there waiting for him. "Ah, yes, Harry, my boy. Bad business, I'm afraid." A portly man stepped forward and held out his hand. "I'm Michael Fudge and I'm the Head of the Department for the Good Fortune, Health, Happiness, Prosperity and Well-being of Children. We've come to talk to you about that terrible unpleasantness in July of last year."

"Please, follow me." Harry led them to his room, which Dumbledore expanded for more comfort. Harry waited silently for one of them to start, amused at the uncomfortable look on their faces.

"Ah yes," Michael Fudge said, clearing his throat. "You, of course, know Albus Dumbledore and this is our primary Auror in cases like these, Dennis Carlton. Not that there are many cases like these." Fudge wiped his sweat drenched forehead with his handkerchief, very visibly nervous and unsure of what to do. Harry looked at Dumbledore and raised a brow, getting a bland look in return even. "I need to go over what you believe happened that day."

"Do you mean when my uncle locked me in the cupboard after I got back from my trip to Diagon Alley or when he stabbed me?"

"We didn't know you were locked in the cupboard." Fudge flushed and looked around, wringing his hands, more sweat popping up on his forehead.

"Probably because no one asked me what happened."

"That wasn't necessary." Fudge darted a glance toward Dumbledore. "It was felt that such a traumatic event didn't need to be retold by the victim so soon after it had occurred. Being you. The victim that is. Of the terrible abuse of your family I mean. Er... we don't handle very many cases or any cases of child abuse really, so we're really terribly sorry." There was an awkward silence for a moment or two. "Now, why don't you tell me what happened in your own words?"

Harry raised his eyebrow a second time, "The Dursleys resented my being in their house for as long as I can remember. They told me as a child that I was unwelcome and that if I wished to stay instead of being left out on the streets, where they should have left me when I showed up at their house as they often told me, that I would have to earn my keep. I worked in the garden all summer long for hours at a time, shoveled snow during the winter and did most of the menial work inside the house. Petunia cooked dinners most of the time but after I turned 7 I was expected to cook breakfast before my uncle got up and have lunch on the table at exactly noon.

"I did not get beaten as a kid, despite what the Dursleys seem like. Vernon beat me one time then felt so guilt ridden that he didn't come near me for months. It was not until the last year I lived with them that the sporadic cuffs to my head became more. It built up slowly until Vernon was taking out his rage from his life on me, finally cumulating in my being locked in my cupboard from the time Flitwick came to get me to the time Dumbledore saved me.

"On the occasions when I did not complete my chores, the Dursleys would lock me in my cupboard and not give me anything to eat for days at a time — though it was rarely longer than a week and the times it was was because I did some kind of magic, or what he perceived as me doing magic."

"You mean your _bedroom_ was the cupboard under the stairs? They kept you in there for ten years?" M. Fudge, as Harry had taken to calling him in his mind so as not to confuse him with C. Fudge the Minister, looked like he was about to have a nervous breakdown, but Dumbledore's eyes were closed and he looked like he was in physical pain. The lines on his face were deeper than Harry had ever seen them outside of the war. He looked ancient.

"Yes," Harry said, his voice bland, as if he was answering a question about Binn's history class. He didn't care that the Auror was holding back his anger or that M. Fudge looked like he was going to pass out - he was watching Dumbledore. Harry knew Dumbledore loved him, but his reaction here and now would tell Harry if Dumbledore truly didn't know about the abuse. It wouldn't change anything either way, Harry was always going to be Dumbledore's man, but it would take a large load off of Harry's shoulders to know that Dumbledore hadn't known what had gone on in that house, to know that Dumbledore felt horrible that he hadn't been able to take action soon enough. He wanted to know that Dumbledore cared, because he honestly didn't really know. He wanted to think he did, and does, but one part of himself was unable to shake the question — 'What if Dumbledore knew all along, and left him there anyway?' The older man's blue eyes met his own and the pain and grief in them were more than Harry could bear. Harry had his answer. He dropped his eyes to the floor and selfishly hoped that one of the other's said something to distract the Headmaster.

"Oh my Lord, oh my Lord, this isn't good. This **is not** good at all." Fudge threw a nervous look at Carlton, whose face was blank but his eyes said he was annoyed with the nervous man.

"In cases such as these, we generally allow the child to pick their guardian's punishment." Carlton broke in before M. Fudge could speak again. "You've said that you want them to go before their Muggle peers? Can you explain your reasoning behind that? You know their punishment would be harsher in our world."

"The only thing the Dursleys care about are their reputations. How the neighbors viewed them affected every decision the Dursleys made while I lived with them. If you give the Dursleys a trial here in the Wizarding World, it'll only be a bunch of freaks who think they can pull people of good standing into a freakish little world to the Dursleys. If a group of their peers convict them, then they'll not only get the maximum amount of embarrassment out of it, but they won't be able to say that the freaks stacked the odds against them."

Carlton nodded his approval and Dumbledore looked a little disturbed but nodded as well. Fudge just rung his hands and gave Carlton the go ahead to do as he felt was necessary. Harry knew that revenge never solved anything but he was never very good at following the rules and wanted to pay them back for crimes greater than child neglect.

If he made them suffer a little for his childhood, well that was all to the best in his opinion. If his doing this helped Dudley, which Harry knew was possible because Dudley turned out to be a pretty decent person before he died, then that was even better.

"Their trial will start two days from today. Is that agreeable to you?"

"Perfectly. School starts on the sixth though, and Muggle trials are notorious for lasting weeks and weeks."

"We've taken that into consideration. You'll be given a time-turner to repeat your days so you can go to the trial and still get your education." M. Fudge beamed at him. Harry felt his upper lip start to curl in disgust but managed to stop himself and gave the man a nod and small smile instead. Keeping on the right side of the Ministry was very much in Harry's books for the moment as he remembered how much trouble the incompetent idiots could cause just by blundering around. Everything else would come on its own time.

Dumbledore made small talk as Harry walked them all to the door where M. Fudge and the Auror disapparated away. Dumbledore paused before turning to look at Harry. "I would like your permission to call tomorrow. There are some things we need to talk about that I did not feel needed to be discussed in front of strangers."

"Oh." Harry blinked, surprised that Dumbledore was asking instead of just showing up the next day but glad because it would be awful if Dumbledore showed up when he was out on a self assigned mission. That was the last thing he needed. "Of course you can, Professor."

"I'll call tomorrow around noon." Harry nodded and saw Dumbledore hesitate for a moment before he spoke again. "For what it's worth, Harry, I am sorry."

"I know that Professor."

With that, Dumbledore vanished with a quiet crack.

"Harry, dear, are you alright? What did the Professor want?" Melinda asked frowning.

"Just to get my statement on what happened at the Dursleys and to see how I wished to handle the situation." Harry shrugged.

"And?"

"And what?"

"How did you want to handle it?"

"I decided to have the Muggles try the Dursleys. It'll mean more to them if their peers condemn them than if I did."

"I see." She stared at him for a moment. "As your guardians, you should have had either Tom or myself there to help you make the decisions. You're only eleven years old, Harry, and can't be expected to make mature, informed decisions on your own all the time. It's why you were given guardians instead of left on your own."

"I'm sorry." Harry said bowing his head so she wouldn't see the look on his face which was part shame, but mostly annoyance at having anyone make decisions for him. He was after all a grown man even if he didn't look it. "I didn't know that and no one's ever helped me with that kind of stuff."

"I understand that, Harry, which is why I'm not angry. But I wanted you to know that you can and should come to me with this kind of situation. I also want you to know that the Peter Pettigrew situation was unacceptable. You could've been in danger. If this Blue writes you again, I want you to bring the letter to myself or if you're at school, Professor Flitwick or Dumbledore immediately." Melinda bent and kissed his brow before ruffling his hair. "You're a good boy Harry and I want to make sure you stay a good boy and grow into a good man. You can't do that if you die."

Knowing what he would be doing in the next few years Harry felt hot and cold alternatively while a sick sensation built in his stomach. Melinda just wanted to help him and take care of him. If he was really eleven, he'd have been so grateful that he wouldn't know what to do other than try to hold back his tears. That he was going to be sneaking around and lying to Melinda made him feel like the worse sort of pond scum. That it was necessary and he couldn't do anything else if he wanted to survive this War with the Wizarding World mostly intact did little to lessen the feeling.

"Now that that's over with, why don't you help me in the kitchen? The new girl will be here today and we need to do our best to make sure she's up to the task." Melinda grinned at him, making herself look years younger.

They were in the kitchen working when the new girl came in. She was a small woman who reminded him a bit of a younger Helen Mirren, who acted on stage and in movies from the late 60s to present time.

"Hello, Julia right?" Harry asked, smiling at the woman and feeling the mischievousness that Melinda seemed determined to bring out in him while pushing away his negative feelings. He had enough practice pushing his feelings away over the years that it was almost like second-nature.

"That's right." The girl-woman, because she couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen, smiled back at him then dismissed him and turned to Melinda. "What do you want me to do first?"

"Help us with the dinner rush." Melinda moved to the ice chest and pulled out a slab of beef and slapped it down on the counter. "This cuts it up automatically. And I do mean automatically. Don't place your hand on the counter. We lose more help that way than any other." Melinda sighed and watched as the beef was cut up. "Of course we get the occasional rat to make as sausage so it all evens out." *1

Julia paled, then turned green as Melinda talked until she looked like she would faint at the end. "Come along, girl, we haven't all day!"

The girl was clearly frightened but moved to help with lunch which improved her chances of staying on.

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Harry threw himself out of his bed and fell on the floor on his hands and knees, gasping for breath. He closed his eyes as he pictured it, the death and destruction caused because Fudge, the Minister, had denied Voldemort's return. He'd had six months free to gather his forces and had done so while the Ministry concentrated all their energy on attacking a 15 year old boy and Dumbledore. When Voldemort found out about the connection between Harry's mind and his own, something neither of them could control even with all of Voldemort's Occlumency, the half-snake man had gone a little crazy and had started attacking the Wizarding World.

The Ministry fell within a week of Christmas, the Unspeakables, thankfully, had known it was coming and had destroyed the majority of the building leaving only the Veil room intact and parts of other rooms that Harry hadn't even been able to guess the purpose of; or rather unfortunately, as a lot of people – innocent civilians and Ministry personnel alike – had still been inside the building. Hogwarts, as it had so often been in the past, became the government's headquarters until he was seventeen, when Hogwarts fell. Most of the Ministry had been killed during that battle and a lot of the Order had either been fatally injured – but died slowly so their dying bodies had to be carted around by friends and family who wouldn't just give them a pain free mercy killing. More people had died because they'd been too slow moving and had been caught by the 'Snatches' whose sole job was to catch and kill people who weren't strictly in Voldemort's camp. Voldemort took the saying 'If you're not with me, you're against me' to an entirely different level. He killed everyone he knew wasn't part of his camp before he rose. He didn't want there to be any questions of loyalty. Best to get rid of all those potential uprisings before they even happened.

Harry and the Weasleys had gone on the run together, with Hermione, the Tonks family, and Remus. Remus and Tonks got married three months later in the Muggle World and got pregnant soon after. She'd been cut down when she was around seven months pregnant. Remus and her father went absolutely insane and had done two suicide runs on the two largest of Voldemort' bases, destroying them and everyone inside. Slowly, everyone else was picked off one by one. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had already been dead and Ron had died two months before Hogwarts fell being the braggart prat he'd become to reconcile himself with the things he'd done during the War.

Hermione had gone out for food one day and disappeared. She was presumed died but Bill had always wondered if she hadn't just gotten tired of running and went underground to the Muggle World. That wouldn't have worked for the Weasleys or Harry who were so out of touch with the Muggles they couldn't survive there, in Harry's case, or had never known how to survive there like the Weasleys. Well that and Voldemort listed them as Public Enemy Number One (Harry), Two (Arthur), Three and Four (The twins), Five (Charlie), and Six (Bill), and they wouldn't stop looking for them until they were found. Of course, they wanted Hermione too, because she was scarily intelligent, but they wanted her alive and not dead.

What made matters worse, was the fact that the Muggle World was, slowly, being destroyed. The Muggle's couldn't figure out who was attacking them, and had blamed everyone and their uncle until they all just went to war. The Prime Minister had been one of the first people killed. Then, through the Ministry records Voldemort had been intelligent enough to get before the Ministry building was destroyed, he'd sent his Death Eaters after the Muggles who knew about the Wizarding World. Harry wasn't sure that they'd gotten them all, but considering the Wizarding World had more ways to track a person than Harry was entirely comfortable with and how Voldemort had more servants than he knew what to do with, Harry didn't think too many had escaped the purge.

Harry had seen pictures of 3rd world countries in the news and in books growing up and was surprised, when they surfaced in the Muggle World to get food a year after Hogwarts fell, to see that London looked exactly like that. People scurried around, afraid of their own shadows, holding large guns with their fingers on the triggers as if they were ready and willing to mow down anyone who twitched wrong. Arthur had died during one of their trips to the Muggle to give the rest of them a chance to escape. They'd been found by three Death Eaters and had been attacked which had brought the wrath of the Muggles around down on them. Bill always said he thought his father was happy to die, that he couldn't stand being away from his beloved wife and watching the torment his children went through every day.

Fred and George had gone down fighting. Harry remembered the respect in Mad-eye's voice when he told Harry of their uncles, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, and how it had taken five Death Eaters to take them down. He would have been even more proud to learn of the twenty Death Eaters Fred and George killed, the fifteen they injured so badly they were never the same, and the absolute destruction they left in the wake of their deaths. Harry had been feared by the Death Eaters more than any other person alive but Death Eaters, even two years after the death of the Twins, still whispered the Twins' names, as if to speak them aloud would call on their dead souls and they'd start their carnage again. The Weasley Twins were the Voldemort of the Death Eater's camp.

Harry sat up and leaned against the bed with his face in his hands and one knee drawn up to his chest. He had the strongest urge to have a strong drink, like he used to have with Charlie and Bill before everyone was dead. He wasn't sure if it was seeing Luna Lovegood again and the guilt that followed him for not knowing her fate or something else, but he hadn't dreamt about the beginning of the war in a long time. When Luna had disappeared, they hadn't been that close, but he considered her a friend even if she wasn't in the same circle as Ron and Hermione. He'd always felt guilty that he hadn't had the time or energy to find out what happened to the spacey blonde. Now he wondered how she'd been. The one country that hadn't been affected by the wars, Magical and Muggle, had been Australia. They'd closed off their boarders and hadn't allowed anyone in after the world went to hell. Harry hoped the loveable blonde and her father had escaped there before the war started in earnest.

"Harry?" Tom paused at the wall made by his book shelf. "What are you doing up? It's late."

"I couldn't sleep." Harry didn't want to admit to the nightmare he'd had, he'd seen Hogwarts burn more times than he could count in his dreams, but it left him vomiting and shaken every time. He knew what he looked like, pale with wide, wild eyes, and wasn't sure what Tom would think. He'd never seen either of his guardians after a nightmare before.

Tom was silent for a moment, "I see. Come on out to the kitchen, Harry, and we'll get a nightcap."

Harry stood up slowly, not sure his legs would support him seeing as he'd had to crawl his way from the bathroom back to his bed, feeling relief when they did as he followed the older man out to the kitchen and took a seat at one of the high stools.

"I can't cook much, I leave most of it to the wife, but I can make a mean grilled cheese." Tom set about buttering the bread and setting the skillet to head, his movements practiced. "I know I can heat the pan up with magic, but sometimes I think doing it the old-fashioned way is best, don't you?"

"I don't know. I've never cooked with magic." During the war Charlie had done most of the cooking because they hadn't had stoves or ovens and sometimes they hadn't had pans and it was best not to use magic for such trivial things as creating a pan or a stove and Charlie had lived out on dragon duty where they roasted food over an open fire. Though Harry and Bill had never known why they didn't just create stoves and pans out of magic. Charlie had taken great delight in keeping it a secret.

"Of course you haven't, you're only a little boy." Harry felt a flash of resentment before he pushed it down. He was still a little boy in body if nothing else and becoming sullen about it wouldn't help anyone. "But sometimes people need to remember that life passes a person too quickly and that they should relax and take pleasure in simple things. Of course you're young and I vaguely remember being young. You want everything to happen _right now_." Tom laughed lightly as he placed the plate of four sandwiches on the counter and got out some milk. "Lindy always used to make our kids warm milk with some cinnamon and honey in it when they couldn't sleep." Tom proceeded to do so. "It's always calming and helps a person get to sleep. I have to admit that I make myself a cup sometimes when I have trouble sleeping."

Tom set both glasses of milk down on the counter and took a seat next to him. They sat in silence for a while, just eating their sandwiches and drinking their milk. When Harry set his empty glass down Tom spoke up, "Sometimes, Harry, the best thing to do when life beats you down is to bend."

"What?" Harry stared at the man.

"Bend to the pressures or the memories or whatever is getting you down. If you stay strong all the time no one will know that life is getting to you and won't know to help you. Instead of bending you'll break. It's harder to pick the pieces up and put your life together then it is to let someone help you up and dust yourself off."

Harry stared at the man for a few moment or two before what he was saying sank in. He understood what it was to break. Remus and his father-in-law had broken and committed suicide by Death Eater. He'd seen men and woman go crazy in the middle of a battle and become a danger to everyone allies and enemies alike. Slowly he nodded to show he understood what Tom was saying.

"Come on, Harry, let's get you back to bed." Tom lead him back to his room but didn't stop at the door this time. He came into the room and tucked Harry into bed, startling him so badly that he couldn't hide it from his face. "Good night, Harry."

Just as Harry was drifting off it occurred to him that he'd never been able to sleep after a nightmare before.

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**Nightmare in Surrey!**

_For ten years the sleepy town of Little Whinging has harbored a dark secret. A secret so deplorable that many residents are still reeling from the shock nearly a month later. On August 27__th__ at approximately 8:30 in the morning, Vernon and Petunia Dursley were arrested for criminal negligence and abuse of a minor resulting in the minor being rushed to the hospital where surgeons fought for his life for nine hours before he stabilized._

_The abuse of the minor, one Harry Potter, started ten years ago on the sleepy night of November 2 when Petunia Dursley woke to find her newly orphaned nephew on her doorstep as she went to collect the milk and paper. You all might remember this as the time when owls started appearing in broad daylight and the shooting star shower happened every night for two weeks, baffling scientist even to this day._

_No one is quite certain when the abuse of Harry Potter started. What we do know is that his parents were murdered by the terrorist organization that took root in the late 70s and were one of the last families to be killed. No record exists to show that Harry Potter was placed with his Aunt, who is his mother's sister; however, five years later Harry Potter was registered for primary school where his first teacher reported to the Headmaster of the school that she suspected something was wrong in the Dursley home._

"_Harry was such a bright child," Mrs. Sarah McKinley recalls. "He learned all the normal things a child learns in their first year of schooling: how to tie their shoes, the alphabet, his numbers and such within the first month of being in my class. I remember that I had to pull the Dursleys into the classroom several times before the end of the year because Dudley, their son, couldn't seem to learn. Or rather, he refused to put any effort into his school work. I remember clearly that Vernon Dursley turned red and told me he didn't want a pansy as a son and didn't care what I thought on the matter. When I brought up how quickly Harry picked things up, the Dursleys went very still and very quiet, then told me the boy had to be cheating because his parents were worthless and so the boy would be too. Little Harry didn't come back to school for the rest of the year, but I remember that when he started his next year he was eerily quiet and he wasn't doing nearly as well in school. I reported what I knew to Headmaster Phillips but he told me the Dursleys were fine, upstanding members of society and that I was just an old woman wanting to make trouble. Them being arrest sure shows evidence to the contrary, doesn't it?"_

_**Continue on page seven**_

Harry stared at the article and thought it was highly amusing. Everyone in the country had to have heard about the Dursleys by now. Every time there was a slow day, _The London Situation_ *2 brought it up again. Harry thought it more than amusing what former friends of the Dursleys were saying about them. How everyone knew that they were 'a bad sort' but no one suspected it was so bad. Harry wanted to knock heads together in moments of outrage. Mostly because they didn't know the Dursleys were bad, they'd believed that he had been a delinquent, so they ignored what might have otherwise set off warning bells. He remembered most of the people being quoted in the newspaper as being great friends with the Dursleys and some of them even crossed the street when they saw him walking down the walk.

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Doris Polkiss tutted as she read the article in the paper. "Those Dursleys," She commented to her husband. "Who knew what bad apples they were? Did you hear what happened to them?"

"No dear." Jalo Polkiss said absently as he read the financial section.

"They abused that poor sweet little nephew of theirs. Do you remember I told you that something wasn't quite right there?"

"Yes dear." Jalo rolled his eyes at his son; they both knew that Doris had adored Petunia and believed every word the other woman had said about her nephew. Had in fact helped to make sure everyone who moved into the area knew what a 'wicked little boy' he was.

"I've heard that they abused him pretty badly. That they made him sleep in a closet."

"I already knew that." Piers said with a shrug. "It was the cupboard under the stairs. He was in there all the time. Even when you were there, Mum. They locked him in there for days at a time."

"What?" Jalo's head snapped up, his easy-going stance completely gone.

"Yeah." Piers had his head down looking at the comics so didn't notice the dangerous grounds he was entering. "They were always throwing him in there. If he got good grades on a test, he was put in there for about a week. If he did better than Dudley on the quarterly progress reports, then he got locked in there all break. Dudley used to tell me he tripped Potter when he was doing chores so he'd break something and get in trouble or he'd push him down the stairs or he tore up the plants in the garden and tell Mr. Dursley that he saw Potter do it. He was always getting him in trouble."

"And you didn't tell us this? Why?" Jalo's voice was low. Piers finally brought his head up, hearing the danger in his father's voice.

He swallowed. "I told Mom that he was always getting in trouble and that Dudley was always picking on him." He carefully left out the fact that he did it too. "And that Harry was never allowed to do anything with the Dursleys."

Jalo stood up and grabbed his son. "Wife, call my work. I won't be in today." His voice was so full of anger that Doris didn't even think to argue with him. She knew that her husband let her get away with a lot, but when he decided something that was it and there was no arguing with him.

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Marjorie Dursley didn't read the paper or own a telly, she didn't hold with that nonsense: newspapers were all full of lies and rumor mongers and people trying to bring about panic in the masses so the editors can make an extra pound and the telly was a waste of time and rotted the brain. She spent her time taking care of her house, her bulldogs and reading good respectable books (though she'd deny owning any fantasy books to her brother or that they were her favorite type and what she had the most of although they were in her bedroom where she was sure her brother would never go). So she didn't hear about the problems her brother or his family were facing because she didn't talk to her brother more than once every three months and didn't expect a call from him for another two months. None of the Dursleys thought to call Marge nor did anyone else when they got arrested.

The first Marge heard about the problems her brother was in was when Colonel Fubster asked what type of legal aid Vernon was seeking because Fubster's niece was a barrister. Marge didn't know what the older man was talking about but also didn't worry about it because, while Colonel Fubster was trustworthy with her dogs and a good person all around, he had some of the oddest ideas. The next she heard about it was when she was taking her Sunday tea at the Marion Hotel and heard the whispers of several other of the ladies who took tea at the same time. She didn't think anything of it, she didn't hold with gossip and so didn't speak to the other women who made it their life's work to learn everything about everyone who ever passed through Miller's Cross.

"Yes, it's her brother, I'm sure!"

"Why don't you go ask her, Abby?"

"Are you kidding? She'll set her bulldogs on me!" There were twittering from the twits but Marge graciously pretended not to hear them as she sipped at her tea and read her book.

"I heard he was arrested and his son placed in foster care."

"Who knows? Child abusers should always suffer the greatest punishment possible. Could you imagine? I spanked my little Timmy and felt so guilt ridden that I went out and got him that flying plane that was all the rage four months ago."

Marge, having twice heard that her brother was in trouble, decided it was about time to phone Vernon to make sure he was alright despite the fact that she was sure the women were just trying to start trouble. Her concern grew when she couldn't get a hold of her brother but decided that he just took his family out for dinner, it was Sunday after all, and he'd be back later.

She called the next morning around the time she knew Vernon should've been getting ready to go to work. The phone rang and rang but no one picked it up.

The same thing happened at noon and again at six.

Marge was getting more worried than she'd been in years and decided it was about time for her to visit her brother to make sure everything was alright. Normally she didn't just call on a person without advanced notice as she considered it unforgivably rude but she was sure Vernon would forgive her seeing as she was so worried about him and didn't plan to stay more than a day. She knew that Dudley was safe at Smeltings, despite what the twits said, but maybe something _was_ wrong with Vernon.

Arriving at Vernon's home, she was surprised to find that _no one_ was home. She had hoped that Petunia would be there to greet her because Vernon should've been at work. The door also had crime tape over it which caused her to nearly faint dead away.

"If yeh be looking fer them Dursleys yeh be looking in the wrong place. Seeing as they got themselves arrested." The voice came from the right so it was number six, if Marge had her numbers correct. "They done been arrested as they done nearly killed their little boy. Their nephew rather. Yer his sister right? Abusers the lot of yeh. Yeh should be ashamed!" The woman entered her house and slammed the door shut.

Marge, for the first time since she was a little girl, did feel ashamed and appalled. No matter how bad the boy was and despite how the boy would likely turn out to be nothing but a vagabond Vernon should have controlled himself.

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Bradley Addams was what you'd think of if you thought of a stereotypical baker — rotund, pink cheeked and cheerful. He was a kind man and treated his men like they were family and letting any of them go was something he tried to avoid. His company was fairly large, being that it was a national company and he made a great deal of money but the first office, near Manchester, was his baby and his headquarters so he spent most of his time there. That and his baby just had a baby of her own and he couldn't bear to be away from them. He told his daughter that it was because his wife wanted to be around the baby all the time but his baby had just rolled her eyes and given him a look. He wasn't sure if she believed him.

So when he found out that the managing director of his Surrey firm was under investigation for gross child abuse, he was not only dismayed but he was disgusted with himself. He'd been to Vernon Dursley's home several times throughout the years – he liked to visit each of his director's homes at least once every three or so years, finding that it helped bring about the sense of family he liked. He remembered Vernon's wife and son, a rather skinny woman with a haughty disposition and a rather large little boy (which he didn't hold against the boy, being large himself) with a vacant expression in his eyes. He didn't remember a nephew at all, which disturbed Bradley a great deal. He was good with faces and names and liked to know at least the basics of each of his directors. Again, it built up a sense of family if he could ask after the man's own family.

He had his assistant make inquires on what exactly was going on in Vernon Dursley's life. Finding out that the little boy had barely been alive and that he'd spent so many hours in surgery and intensive care was the final straw. Vernon Dursley was to be fired. Child abusers had no place in his company. "Sarah put out a memo to the entire company. I don't what any of this kind of scum ruining my good name."

"Yes sir."

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Vernon Dursley wasn't what you'd call a very bright person. He got to where he was through sheer hard work and determination on his part, something he learned through growing up with his heavy handed father and the various jobs he had to get to support himself and his sister when their father fell into a drunken stupor after their mother died. If he'd been a wizard he'd have gone into Hufflepuff without question, he wasn't loyal to everyone but when he gave his loyalty it was everlasting and never-ending. He wasn't very bright but he knew when to buckle down and work, which he'd done better than anyone he competed against to get his job. You wouldn't know it to look at him now, seeing that he was overweight, but that only came later in life. He hadn't even started his family until he was nearly 36. He wouldn't put his wife through all that: the months when you weren't sure you would be able to pay your utilities or when you lost your flat because you couldn't afford the rent. He was a man, and a good man, and putting your family through that was the worse disgrace Vernon could think of. Vernon knew that he could work harder and longer and better, worrying only about himself instead of having to cave in to a wife and child.

When Vernon was 30 and halfway up the company ladder he finally married Petunia – who'd still been living with her parents, a perfectly acceptable situation with an unwed single female who was so very young – and then, had allowed her to have the child she longed for when he was just three months shy of 36 when he finally made director of the London branch of the company.

He'd expected his life to be perfect when Dudley came along. Perhaps he'd have another son to go into the Queen's service and maybe a little girl that Petunia could spoil and play dress up with. Then came the day early in November when the Boy showed up. Vernon had even been considering allowing Petunia to come off the pill and get pregnant with another child, after all, Dudley was just shy of his year and a half mark and old enough to be a good older brother to the next child when that _thing_ had appeared on his doorstep. Everything he'd worked so hard for had crash down around his ears. He wife was terrified, his home invaded by a freak and his son upset at the upheaval – though he refused to acknowledge that it might have been his wife crying and Vernon himself screaming that had his son wailing. Vernon didn't know why his wife was so scared but he guessed it was because the freaks were dangerous and if there was one thing Vernon hated in the world it was to feel helpless. Petunia was scared and he couldn't even take a cricket bat to what scared her like any respectable man would for his family. Nor could he threaten it to go away, freaks could ride brooms and turned people into frogs. How could you fight a man as a frog?

So he'd done what he always did when he was feeling helpless, he'd lashed out and the only thing to lash out at – besides his wife and child and that was unacceptable to a man like him – was the boy with his freakishness. He'd forbidden Petunia to allow Dudley anywhere near the freak, he had to stay on the bottom floor as who really knew when he'd start learning his abnormality? He might just _know_ how to use it and Vernon wouldn't let his son be turned into a frog, so he didn't allow the boy in the same room as them.

Petunia, frightened as she was, didn't argue despite the actions being completely against her kind, gentle nature. She set up a mattress on the floor of the cupboard under the stairs and left the boy in there for most of the time until he was capable of doing his fair share around the house. Their lives continued on this way for the next six years, until the boy's first no-other-explanation-for-it-he-did-_that_ outburst. He'd appeared on the roof of the school and the headmaster swore the doors to the roof were all locked; to even get the boy down they had to call the cleaning staff and get the key. Vernon had exploded and spanked the boy until his buttocks were black and blue. He wasn't proud of that but the boy's abnormality needed to be kept under control, he wouldn't be allowed to harm anyone with it. His shame forced him to lock the boy in the cupboard for the first time; he couldn't stand to look at the child knowing he'd beaten the boy half to death which, even for a freak, was beyond what Vernon had thought capable for himself. He wasn't violent.

The next few years passed by without incident, well there was the teacher who'd had her hair dyed but that could've just as easily been an older student placing slow acting dye on her wig than anything else. He'd still punished the boy but it hadn't been nearly as bad as the First Time. When the boys turned ten, however, Petunia told him that the next year was when her sister had gotten her letter inviting her to go to Hogwarts and Vernon became even stricter. There was to be no mention of magic or fantasy in the house at all. Not even from his precious little boy. None. And the boy was to be punished by him for every perceived abnormality. The violence that Vernon showed the boy slowly escalated as all things did until Vernon didn't think twice about knocking the boy's head against the wall as he passed him or taking his belt to the boy after a rough day at work.

The boy's birthday passed without incident and Vernon and Petunia started to relax, though the violence against the boy didn't stop or slow down. Then the boy disappeared with that small freak and Vernon lost all sense of self. He'd locked the boy in his room and he'd not let him out for anything. Petunia had fed him, he was sure of that, bleeding heart that she was, but the boy wasn't allowed out.

When he saw the boy he'd been horrified, sure the emaciated form wouldn't live much longer. The smell was spreading through the entire house as well and the neighbors were starting to ask questions. He had to get rid of the boy before everything rained down on them. He wouldn't have all his hard work go down the drain because of some little freak, a freak he didn't ask for nor want. So he'd gone to kill the boy, put him out of his misery. In the beginning of Marge's dog breeding business, she couldn't bear to kill the runts and had asked Vernon to do it for her. He'd done it and hadn't felt bad or anything so couldn't imagine killing the boy would be much worse. And it was a mercy killing anyway, wasn't it?

So he'd gone to do the deed, only the boy reacted. He'd still been strong enough to move around and Vernon started to think maybe he could bring the boy back up to snuff. Then the boy used his abnormality against him and Vernon had lost all his senses. The violence that he'd shown the boy for the last year had escalated to the point where he didn't think twice about beating the boy again. The next thing he knew, he'd woken up in a jail cell and had been told he was being held for child abuse charges and whatever else the prosecutors could get him for.

And Vernon's life, despite all his hard work and trying, had shattered around his feet and broke beyond repair.

_And all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put my life back together again._

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*1 SomeGuyFawkes "On the plus side, it makes mighty fine sausage - and we get the occasional rat that way too!"

*2 major news paper, station and morning show in this world. Takes the place of the Times (you know The Times, The New York Times etc.)

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**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added: **September 8, 2010


	14. Chapter 18: Trying Times

**Title: A New Chance Continued**

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** fanfiction(dot)net under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl (any mistakes are on me)

**Website:** /group /pyrodaemon87/ its ya hoo in the beginning but FFN keeps taking out the ya hoo.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter Eighteen**

**Trying Times**

Harry shifted uncomfortably under the heavy gaze of the Headmaster, resisting the urge to just spill the beans and tell the older man everything. He wasn't even sure why exactly he was keeping his time traveling a secret. Well, he knew the excuse he gave himself – that he didn't want the older man to make all the decisions this time, didn't want him to stop laughing and handing out candy like someone's slightly dotty grandfather. The war had utterly destroyed Albus Dumbledore and every decision he made that hurt someone tore little pieces of his soul away. Dumbledore was a kind and gentle old man with a generous spirit, and giving the orders for the resistance to stop taking prisoners and start taking lives had been the last thread that held the man together. Watching as less people came back from battles had been hard on everyone, but was especially hard on their leader.

Harry wanted to spare him that if he could.

"How do you like living here, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as he finished adding tea to his cream and sugar.

"It's really nice, sir." Harry smiled at the man and took a sip of his own tea – proper tea with only a lump of sugar and no cream – to hide most of his smile at Dumbledore's obvious delight of his own tea. "Tom and Melinda are very nice and this is the best room I've ever had."

"It is very nice, isn't it?" Dumbledore looked around, taking in the numerous books and the mess Harry's desk had become with all the scattered notes on his homework, what he wanted to teach in his tutoring class, and various ideas for Rune powered objects he had.

Harry smiled and nodded. "Yes, and the people are great too. Besides the Dodderidges, there are loads of people who talk to me and tell me about what Hogwarts was like in their day. I've had several discussions with people on what the OWLs and NEWTs will be like as well as the classes that used to be available at Hogwarts. Why was dueling disbanded in the 70s, sir?"

"Ah, that is a sticky question, Harry." Dumbledore set his tea down and Harry followed suit. "The short answer is because, due to Voldemort, tensions ran very high and caused problems the Staff just didn't have time to deal with."

"People took spars and duels and made them actual fights?"

"Dangerous fights." Dumbledore nodded his head. "We'd considered for nearly a year shutting down the Dueling class, but couldn't quite bring ourselves to do so as the class was very helpful and, after they left, several students told us that the class had saved their lives during a fight against Death Eaters."

"If it was so useful, why shut it down? Couldn't you have just hired an Auror to come in on Saturday and teach it? That way you wouldn't have had to keep another person on Staff full-time."

Dumbledore sighed. "Alas, that idea didn't occur to us at all. Professor Flitwick was the only professor who had time to spar, and, as the Dueling class was open to all students 2nd year and above, he had a lot of students to look after. We allowed the Head Boy and Girl help run the class with the Prefects helping them. Unfortunately, in the late 70s, I made a man into Head Boy and a small group of students strenuously objected to that choice. The Head Boy was a good man and a great friend. He treated all the younger students very well – even those in a House he was near famous for disliking — and got along with 4/5 of the school. Regrettably, he had a hot temper and, at the time, was only beginning to get control over himself. He had a rather intense rivalry with another student stemming from the hatred his best friend had for the other boy. That rival had reached new heights the previous year and was only getting worse that year as well. That rivalry bled over into everything this young man did. Both he and the other boy – along with the Head Boy's friends – were all at fault. The Head Boy and his best friend antagonized the other boy. In turn, the other boy, along with his group of friends, did nothing but torment the Head Boy and his best friend as well as, I'm sorry to say, a great deal of the school.

"During one of the last sessions of the Dueling class, the other boy thought it would be funny if he fired a string of curses off into the crowd of students and gravely injured many of them. When the Head Boy moved to restrain the other boy, they got into a duel – Flitwick had rushed many of the more gravely injured students off to the Infirmary so wasn't there to stop it. The duel only stopped when the Head Girl foolishly jumped between the two of them." Dumbledore sighed deeply and removed his glasses to rub his eyes before replacing them.

"I can say this for the Head Boy, he wasn't dueling the other boy so much as trying to keep the other students safe. The Head Girl spent nearly a month in the Infirmary due to injuries inflicted on her from the other boy. Many of the students who were hurt suffered long lasting symptoms from the curse used on them, and one was so disfigured that she took her own life. She was labeled for four years as, I believe, the most beautiful, perfect girl at Hogwarts and didn't know how to deal with not still holding that title. The Dueling class was, needless to say, canceled, and we haven't been able to bring ourselves to reopen it."

"I understand that," Harry murmured after a moment of shocked silence. He had thought they stopped the Dueling class because Dumbledore was a bleeding heart (which he was) and no one else had enough guts to stand up to him if he put his foot down (which they didn't). But to find out that something really bad had happened, that someone had injured so many students for such a petty reason, and that one of those students had taken her own life, was appalling. In the Wizarding World, even more so than the Muggle World, suicide is scorned. Both the victim and the family of the victim are ridiculed by the rest of society because it is believed magic can fix anything. Of course, the potion to remove scars wasn't invented until '89, at least ten years too late for the girl who died, but there was the good old glamour charm. "I do understand that. However, with the lack of teaching for Defense, don't you think getting an Auror in on Saturdays or Sundays would be a good thing? Then people will know how to defend themselves and the teacher won't be hit by the curse that's supposed to be on the Defense job."

Dumbledore sighed. "Professor Flitwick has asked time and again to restart the Dueling Class, but the Board of Governors refuses to allow the man who let the 'bit of unpleasantness' – a direct quote by the way – be the one to restart the class. If it happens at all, Flitwick won't be allowed anywhere near it, despite being a Champion Dueler."

"That is too bad." Harry frowned. "But surely there are Aurors, retired or who were hurt in the line of duty and has time off, who can come in once a week and teach us? It doesn't even have to always be the same person, though I wouldn't suggest it switching all the time. Maybe long-term people. Aurors who have five or six or even ten months to devote to the class and you don't have to hire the person on. You can just pay him or her to come in on Sunday and maybe take all three meals here. In fact, it would almost be better if it isn't the same person all the time. Get us to understand that not everyone fights in the same way. Some are more physical, some don't move at all and hide behind shields."

Dumbledore gazed at Harry over his glasses, his look very firm. "And how would you know, Harry, that not everyone fights in the same way?"

"Dudley and his gang, of course, Professor. Dudley could never run fast enough to catch me if I got going, so he got another boy who was smaller and faster than him who had longer legs than me to run after me if I ran. But Piers was physically weaker than the other boys and when he caught me alone his entire strategy was to keep me so busy I couldn't run away, even if he didn't hurt me very often. He'd just go in for quick strikes, then back away and circle around me then move in again. Dudley and Gordon were known for knocking a person down and going in with their feet, kicking the person until they were really in pain, then jumping on top of them and going for the face."

Dumbledore's face was pale and his eyes were closed, like he was in extreme pain. "I am so sorry, my boy. So very sorry."

Harry leaned forward with a concerned frown and touched the arm the Headmaster had on the table next to his tea cup. "Professor, it wasn't your fault."

"It was, my boy, it was. I made the choice to leave you with the Dursleys and I made the choice not to check on you. This entire ordeal can be placed directly at my feet."

"Hey now, that's not nearly fair to you. You're not a god, Headmaster, you're only a man. You're a man who runs a school and has several other positions that makes your life very busy. Why would you check on one orphan, no matter how well you knew his family? You have nearly a thousand people who rely on you every day to keep them safe and their school running. Besides, who would have thought that Lily Evan's sister would be such a malicious, unpleasant, selfish woman? Everyone I have met since coming here tells me that my mother was a near saint. Now I don't believe that, she had to have her flaws. Anyway, people remember well enough of her that I can't imagine _anyone_ would think her sister could be a child abuser or even that she could stand back and let a child be hurt without doing something. You are not all knowing, sir, nor are you all seeing. How could you have predicted that the Dursleys would do something like that to me? And besides, while I wouldn't choose the Dursleys, ever in a million years, it has made me into the person I am and I don't think that's a bad person."

"No, my dear boy, not a bad person at all." Some of the tension bled out of the man's shoulders and the haunted look in Dumbledore's eyes faded a little, though it was in no way gone.

"Perhaps, sir, instead of looking at the negative of this situation you should look at the positive."

"Positive?" Dumbledore frowned, clearly puzzled on how anything from this situation could be a positive.

"You might be able to get funding from the Ministry to fund an all magical orphanage. Then you can use Hogwarts' registry to collect up the magical orphans from the UK and place them with people who will understand that they haven't been taken over by demons and aren't evil. While I don't think taking children from their parents is a good idea, I also don't think leaving them with people who couldn't possibly understand them is the way to go about it either."

Dumbledore stared at him in shock. _Oh score for me! It's not often someone gets to shock Dumbledore as often as I do!_ "I have never thought of that. Orphans have always just been left in Muggle orphanages."

"Just because it's always been that way doesn't mean it should continue to stay that way," Harry said gently. "But that's neither here nor there." Harry laughed. "We were talking about the Dueling class." Harry frowned, trying to remember what they were talking about. "Oh yeah, so having different long-term teachers would actually probably be a really good idea. It'll give students, including myself when I get old enough, a chance to get used to fighting people who aren't all going to fight the same way. I can't imagine that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would have a problem with it. They have to get tired of receiving substandard candidates for their Auror program."

"No, they have complained about it quite often." Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "You seem very concerned about the state of Hogwarts' students. Particularly their Defense studies."

"The world will one day rest on the backs of the young. Granted, seeing as witches and wizards live to be absolutely ancient," Harry said the last in a gentle, teasing way that caused Dumbledore to chuckle. "It will be a long while, but one day we will be the people the younger generation looks up to and despair as old stiffs. It will be our job to guide and protect the children and how will we be able to do that if none of us – or even just a handful of us – can do any kind of defensive magic with any kind of success." A pensive look stole over Harry's face and his eyes became hard. "Also, I know that nearly half of the so-called 'Inner Circle' of Death Eaters escaped justice after Voldemort fell in '81. That means that some 15 or so people are out there waiting for the chance to move. Some of them are quite high in the Ministry of Magic's hierarchy, with a few even having a direct ear to the Minister. So when they make a move, our society will be crippled from the inside out. Lucius Malfoy is the Minister's 'dearest friend' and from everything I've heard of the man, he's a horrible, awful man who should have been locked up at the first chance someone got. After Bellatrix Lestrange, he is considered one of the most vicious, bloodthirsty Death Eater, which is actually a frightening thought because the entire group is considered vicious and bloodthirsty."

"You do bring up some good points, Harry."

"An entire generation of students has no idea how to defend themselves, sir. I know that after 1960 most of the defense professors have left something to be desired, but the students after the 70s don't even have the chance to say 'I didn't have a good defense professor but I had a great dueling professor'. They're all helpless or they do self-study, which, while not a bad thing, isn't nearly as good."

"I do see your point, Harry, and I will seriously consider your arguments." Dumbledore smiled at the boy in front of him, thinking that it was a little frightening — the similarities between Harry Potter and Tom Riddle. Both were abused by the people who were supposed to protect them, both had few to no friends growing up and both were loners. Both boys were also very handsome, even as young children, and both were charismatic. However, the differences between the two boys were staggering. Tom Riddle had never cared for another person in his entire life. He cared only for how that person could help him and advance his plans. Harry Potter was tutoring a group of people when he admittedly didn't like half of them. He was arguing to get better defense professors for the students and to restart the dueling club. Yes, Tom Riddle and Harry Potter had startling similarities, but they were still as different as night and day.

"How are your tutoring sessions going, my boy?"

Harry gave him a disbelieving look. "I thought you were watching them. I mean, the spying charm in the ceiling was well hidden beneath the sky enchantment, but I still found it."

Dumbledore laughed heartily. "Yes, I did set up the charm, but it is nothing against you. We charm all the classrooms where students are teaching others. One, to make sure the student is not taking advantage of another student and, two, to make sure if something unforeseen happens that help can be quickly dispatched. Most clubs take place on Saturday and at least two teachers take a shift to watch over them. It's more effective than having to schedule the student groups around the times when a particular professor is available."

"That makes sense. I know there are a lot of groups at school. Anyway, the class is going fine. I've already seen a marked improvement in every one of my peers and even those who turn up rarely have improved beyond what they were before they attended my lessons. It is – I'm quite proud of them all."

"That does remind me. How would you like to take lessons with me next year? You should be recovered enough from your guardians ill-treatment of you and know enough by then that it won't be a waste of either of our time for me to tutor you."

"Like an apprenticeship?"

"Nothing so formal, but like one, yes."

"I'd love to." Harry beamed at the man. He'd never had one-on-one lessons from Dumbledore, though he'd always wanted them. The man wasn't known as the greatest Wizard of this century because he was old. He was just a great wizard, and to think of everything he could pass on to Harry.

"Excellent!" Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps you'd like to indulge an old man for tea occasionally throughout the rest of this year?"

"I'd be honored." Harry swallowed reflexively. He wondered, in a vague sort of way, why Dumbledore had never given him lessons before. After the War began he could understand because they'd both been so busy just surviving that doing much of anything else – there just hadn't been time. After Dumbledore died and Hogwarts fell, Harry had started teaching himself. That was all he could do between battles. Sit around doing nothing, clean the house and take care of everyone else, or read. He'd chosen Hermione's favorite method to pass time and had started reading. When you read enough you're bound to pick up a few things now and then. Those few things became more and more until he liked to think he was giving Hermione a run for her money.

However, before the war began, there was plenty of time to teach Harry anything he wanted. Though Harry knew he hadn't been the most dedicated student, if Dumbledore had asked him to learn something, he did. Expect for Occlumency. But that had been Snape's fault. He'd even admitted it to Dumbledore that he hadn't actually taught Harry Occlumency. He'd even learned potions when Dumbledore had demanded it. Harry had ended up working with Snape for what seemed like years before the man was killed.

Harry hadn't noticed until now, but he'd crossed his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders protectively as his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. Thinking about how things might have been if he had received serious training sooner was affecting him more than he realized. Looking up, his eyes met Dumbledore's, which then quickly filled with concern. Evidently, Dumbledore had been able to detect his turbulent emotions. Dumbledore's eyes were locked on Harry's face as he said, "Are you all right, Harry? You seem a little upset. Can I get you a calming potion?"

"No." Harry took a deep breath and pushed his emotions away. "No, it just surprised me that you offered is all. I've… no one has ever taught me because they wanted to before."

Dumbledore smiled and opened his mouth, then closed it as they both looked at the door. A knock came from Harry's bedroom door just seconds later. "Come in."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Professor, Harry, but there's a Floo call from the Minister and he says it's 'imperative' that you get to the Ministry." Melinda turned and closed the door leaving them to say their goodbyes.

"It was a pleasure to talk with you, Harry, but it appears that our discussion is now over."

"Of course, sir." Harry stood up and walked toward the door that would lead the man outside to the small garden so he wouldn't have to go through the Cauldron to get to the apparition point as the garden didn't have more than basic wards on it. Harry paused before opening it. "Sir, if Fudge is being difficult about… certain issues, please remind him that any problems that occurred before he took office are not _his_ problems and that people who screwed up before he was even in office are the ones who will pay for the problems they caused, not him. After all, he's only been in office a little over a year, right?"

"That's correct, Harry," Dumbledore said, looking thoughtful.

"Goodbye, Professor," Harry said, opening the door and leading the Professor past the flowerbeds and to the Apparition Point where the Headmaster disappeared with a soft pop of displaced air.

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Harry shifted uncomfortably in the suit Melinda had given him. Apparently, he needed to get over what happened to him and the only way that was going to happen was to watch the entire trial from start to finish. Which he was sure was going to be the most boring thing in the world. Trials weren't exciting and he didn't see how shows could be made about them.

The time turner had been delivered to him yesterday, which surprised him because he thought they'd wait until he was back in school. Of course, this gave him more time to study how to know that it was in working condition. He still wanted to fix the one he'd found in the Room of Requirement so when the Ministry took back the time turner he'd still have one that no one knew about.

The first half of the trial was boring, the lawyers making their opening statements on why the Dursleys were monsters or completely innocent of any crime.

When Mrs. McKinley was called to the stand, Harry smiled at the woman. He remembered her as the only teacher who ever thought there was anything wrong with his home life. The prosecutor smiled at the steel haired woman before speaking. "Please, Mrs. McKinley, describe the first day you had Harry Potter in your class."

"Well, I remember it was about a month after the start of the school year. There had apparently been some trouble with the boy's enrollment. I never asked what it was and no one ever told me so I couldn't tell you what the problem was. I had Harry introduce himself to the class and was surprised when he didn't tell everyone what his favorite color or food or telly program was, as that's what most five and six year olds do. He told the class that he liked being a good boy and that he didn't like being in trouble. I've been a teacher for forty-nine years and I've never heard a child say that so it stuck with me. I knew he lived with his aunt and uncle because his parents were dead and that Dudley Dursley, who was also in my class, was his cousin. Dudley was a very outgoing child and made friends easily. He also was a bit of a bully."

"How can a six year old be a bully?"

"If he wanted to play with one of the toys, he took it from one of the other children and if they raised a fuss-"

"Raised a fuss?"

"The most likely response was 'Hey, I'm playing with that! Mrs. McKinley! He took the toy from me!'"

"I see. Please, go on."

"If the child raised a fuss then Dudley would throw the toy at them or shove them down or hit them. A time or two he actually bit a child."

"Is that very unusual?"

"Not exactly. You can always tell a child is an only child and isn't socially developed when they act like that. They're not used to sharing, you see, but most of the time it only takes getting in trouble three or four times for them to understand that their behavior is unacceptable. Dudley never learned that. He just got smarter about it. He'd shove whoever got him in trouble during recess or he'd destroy the child's art project. But it was always very clever because I never caught him doing it even if I knew it was him. None of that happened for the month he got pneumonia, you see, so I knew it was him and not Harry Potter despite what his aunt would have me believe." She hurried on before the question could be asked.

"And the other children?"

"Well, I couldn't punish Dudley because I never saw him doing it. I suppose the other children just learned to stay out of Dudley's way and let him have whatever toy he wanted."

"And Harry?"

"Harry was always silent. He never spoke unless I spoke directly to him and then he said the least amount of words possible to answer me. He also knew how to handle Dudley, in that he didn't have to learn to just let Dudley have whatever he wanted. He already did so."

"And what did that tell you about their home life?"

"That something was very wrong in the Dursley household. You see it often with a favored child but certainly not usually to this extent. Dudley was a bully and nothing I did or said changed that. If I took away his recess, he destroyed the other children's projects. If I made him sit in the corner, he ate their lunches. If I didn't let him do the art project of the day, he beat his cousin up after school."

"And did you tell the Dursleys about their child?"

"Oh yes, I set up numerous meetings with them throughout the year. Mrs. Dursley told me that her son was perfect the way he was and that if he wasn't learning it was clearly the fault of the teacher. Vernon never showed up to the meetings."

"Is that usual?"

"Yes. It's not when the children get older but most parents show up to parent teacher conferences when the child is six. They lose interest later in the child's life, mostly the men lose interest. It's why I teach younger children because it's easier to correct bad habits when the parents are both involved."

"And what about Harry?"

"He..." Mrs. McKinley sighed. "He was easy to forget. He had a habit of staying very quiet and very still so that you often just didn't see him. He was very bright."

"How so?"

"He learned to read very quickly. While most of the children were still learning their alphabet, he was already reading. He already knew how to count and he could tie his own shoes before even setting foot in the classroom."

"You liked Harry then?"

"Well... He was unnerving. He just... had this way of staring at you that made it seem like he was looking into your soul. Like he could see everything you'd ever done and was judging you on it. My grandfather used to look at me that way and he survived both World War I and II. I didn't dislike Harry but I can't say that I was fond of him either. It's difficult to be fond of a child who you find uncomfortable. But I did my best for him while I had him as I do with every child who comes under my care."

"I see. No more questions."

The defense stood up. "Would you say you've taught a lot of children in your time, Mrs. McKinley?"

"Oh yes. As I said, I've been teaching for nearly fifty years."

"And you started with Secondary education?

"Yes."

"Then to Primary? You started with the older students and moved down."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I found that I didn't enjoy teaching the older children."

"Why?"

"Because they'd already developed their study habits and rarely did you find a student eager to learn. Younger children want to learn what you teach them. If you do it right they take that, the love of learning, with them for the rest of their life."

"And you like teaching?"

"I would say so. I've been doing it for almost fifty years."

"How long have you been teaching five and six year olds?"

"Nearly twenty years now."

"And how long have you been at Surrey Primary?"

"For twelve."

"Where were you before that?"

"Birmingham."

"So you've seen just about every family situation you can come across?"

"I wouldn't go as far as to say that but I've seen a great deal."

"What first made you suspect that Harry Potter was abused?"

"The difference between Dudley and Harry."

"Explain that."

"Dudley was overweight, at about 35 kilograms and Harry barely weighed 15. Dudley was of average height while Harry was the smallest student at school. I thought at first that he was three or four years old."

"And that couldn't have just been a medical problem?"

"That's what I thought at first so I called Mrs. Dursley and set up a conference to talk to her. I told her I feared for Dudley's weight, seeing as he was so large at such a young age. She told me that Dudley was just big boned like his father and that there was nothing wrong with her precious baby. I tried to convince her that Dudley could have health problems later in life if she let him continue. She ignored all my concerns. I told her that Harry was far too tiny for a boy his age and asked if he had any medical conditions or special needs that I needed to be made aware of."

"What did Petunia say to that?"

"That the boy ate more than his fair share at the table and if there was anything wrong with him it wasn't her concern. I remember that because it was one of the most horrifying things I've ever heard a parent say about a child under their care. Most parents, even extremely abusive ones at least pretend they care about their children outside the comfort of their own homes or when in the public eye at all, such as when they have visitors."

"And you think you are qualified to tell when a child is abused or not?"

"Of course, we're taught to look for these types of things."

"Then why were you the only one who saw it?"

"I suspect that has more to do with the Dursleys than Harry. I went and spoke to some of the neighbors after the year was out and was told that Harry was a psychopath and a liar and a thief. No one seemed to ever really look at Harry because of that."

"Surely you told someone other than just the Headmaster if you suspected abuse."

"I did. I went over him first to the Board, then to the police. Then I went straight to the DA himself."

"And nothing ever came of it?"

"They all said they'd look into it but when I called to ask about it later they all pretended that I never made a complaint at all."

"Pretended you didn't make a complaint?"

"Yes."

"And why do you think they did that?"

"I couldn't say. No one gave me an excuse. They simply told me that they had no record of my complaints. This is all despite the fact that I spoke directly to the DA himself in person."

Harry sat straight up in his seat, surprised by this coming out. So apparently he wasn't wasting his time by coming to this trial. Out of the corner of his eye he saw McGonagall and Dumbledore stiffen. Harry would bet any amount of money that magic had been involved in making those complaints go away. _Would Dumbledore have done that?_ Harry asked himself. His eyes narrowed on the other man as Mrs. McKinley was dismissed and a neighbor took her place and noticed that the older man didn't meet his gaze or even look in his direction. _Yes, if he believed that I was safer with the Dursleys than anywhere else. He's still the General. Question is, did he do it or was it someone else?_ Harry didn't like to think that Dumbledore would leave a child in that situation but was well aware that Dumbledore often did things he found unpleasant or distasteful during the war. Harry himself had often done things that gave him nightmares and made him sick up everything he ate the week following the event. But the way Dumbledore reacted that day back in August and every day that Harry had met him since made him think that Dumbledore had no clue how Harry was being treated. Oh Dumbledore knew, had known when he made the decision to leave Harry there, that Harry wouldn't grow up happy but the general belief was that Dumbledore didn't know Harry would be abused. So it was someone else messing with his life and that was unacceptable. Dumbledore could do whatever the hell he wanted because Harry had sworn loyalty to the man and would follow him into hell and back because he loved him. Anyone else doing the same would have to be put down and fast. He might be a puppet but he chose who had his loyalty and who could pull his strings, not the other way around.

Harry frowned as Doris Polkiss took the stand. He remembered the woman as being one of the more malicious gossipers in town and recalled the way she looked at him as if he was some kind of rabid, diseased animal. Harry came back from his memories to hear the prosecutor ask: "You are Petunia Dursley's best friend are you not?"

"Yes sir."

"How did you meet?"

"It was eleven years ago in March that we met. Our husbands belong to the same company, though they work in completely different departments, buildings in our case. We were at one of those meet and greet parties and we were both pretty heavily pregnant at the time, me with my third and Petunia with her first. It was hot and we bonded over how miserable we felt and how awful the heat was. It was spring, of course, but unusually warm that day. We found out half way through our conversation that we lived very close to one another – just a few streets over in fact. Petunia was nervous about being a new mom, seeing as her own mother died in a car crash and she hadn't even babysat as a teen. She was scared of the pain of labor and – well I'm an old hand at this. I'm the oldest of eight children the youngest of whom is fourteen years younger than me and all of my siblings have large families. I told her that no matter how much pain she was going to go through during the delivery, when she held her child for the first time, it would be worth it." Doris smiled.

"We got together a few times after that and had lunch or went shopping for baby things or new maternity clothes. Petunia is such a delicate woman and her pregnancy was hard on her physically and mentally. At the end of the pregnancy, the doctor told her she couldn't grow any bigger because her skin would start to tear. She had to buy new clothes ever three weeks or so. Finally, she ended up and just got some men's shirts and some sweat pants that barely fit her so she could grow into them."

"This is how you bonded?"

"Yes. While we were friends then we didn't become best friends until we went into labor. We were shopping and had to share a taxi. That poor man was near out of his mind with worry that we were both going to pop. I guess the fear of having your baby in the back of a cab is enough to bond people for life. That and, well, Petunia was frightened out of her mind and so, even though I was in pain, I helped her through her own."

"When is the first time you heard of Harry Potter?"

"At his birth. I hadn't known Petunia had a sister, you see, so when she got a card in the mail – one of those cute little blue things with the teddy bear on it — she asked me to open it because – I can't remember why but she was busy and we both thought it was from Gloria Duncan who moved away a few weeks before then but was due any day. I was surprised at the announcement of Lily Potter's child being born and the little note at the bottom which begged Petunia to forgive her."

"Do you remember what it said?"

"Oh yes, of course I do. It said 'Tuney I'm sorry, I'm so sorry that we didn't get along while growing up. Please forgive me for all the awful things I said to you. Know that I've forgiven you. Can't we just be a family again? Our boys can grow up loving each other and never forget how to as we did. Please.' It stuck with me because I hadn't known Petunia had a sister, as I said, and that said sister was begging to be forgiven for what I was sure was a childish spat. When I asked her about her sister, Petunia paled, went white as a sheet which I always thought was impossible outside a book, and snatched the card straight out of my hands and ripped it neatly in half then threw it away. I think I stared at her in shock, even if she hated her sister, to not reply to the card was not the Petunia I knew who was always unfailingly polite and proper and never rude to anyone even if she hated that. Especially if she hated them she was extra nice to them. She burst into tears and told me that her sister was mixed up with a crazy cult and she couldn't prove anything but she thought that they messed with her parent's car which is why her parents died and that Lily had told her that someone in their cult was trying to kill her and she was in hiding and Petunia didn't want to be mixed up in their witchcraft nonsense."

"Witchcraft?"

"You know, like the New Age potions and spells and other such hippy rubbish. I figured her sister got mixed up with one of those crazy murderers or maybe terrorists or something. If you remember that was when things were blowing up left and right." Doris shrugged. "Despite my opinion on the matter, it clearly scared Petunia and that was enough for me. About a year later, I'd nearly forgotten that Petunia had a sister at all, she called me up crying her eyes out. I couldn't understand a word she was saying so went over to her house – Jalo, my husband, took off work to watch the children. Through all the crying, I got that Lily had been killed by the crazy cult person and had been blown up and her husband was dead and her son had somehow, miraculously, survived his house blowing up but Petunia was terrified that someone else from the cult would hunt the boy down and kill her entire family."

"If she was that scared, then why didn't she just refuse to take the baby?"

"That's what I asked but, you see, she didn't have a choice in the matter. Someone literally left the baby on her doorstep without a word. She was scared that the 'good people' in the cult, as if there are good people in cults, would come and kill her if she got rid of the boy. Apparently, he was something of a figure of worship or something in their cult. Touched by the hand of God or something for surviving the madman when everyone else he went after died. I don't pretend to understand everything myself because if you join a cult you are clearly crazy and not expected to make a lick of sense, but she was genuinely afraid that if she gave the boy up she would be killed. She told me, years later, that she actually did take the boy to an orphanage but two days later he was back in his bedroom. She tried it again and again and again – six times. And each time the boy ended up back in his bedroom without anyone knowing someone had been in the house. It always happened when they were asleep and I can't imagine how terrifying it must have been to know that people were coming into your house when you were sleeping. Imagining what they could have done to her gives me the willies."

I stared at Doris in shock. I'd never known Petunia had actually tried to get rid of me. I always wondered why she didn't if she'd hated me so much.

"There are no records of Petunia leaving the boy in an orphanage either here in Surrey or in London."

"Well, I don't know anything about that. It's not like Petunia told me everything, did she? The only reason I knew was because she'd gotten a little tipsy and told me. She was terrified out of her mind that someone was watching her house. How else do you explain the boy just reappearing in his room? He was about seven when this happened so he couldn't have been more than three or four when she left him. It isn't like he got up and walked home."

"So you condone her beating the child?"

"Of course not. Hurting a child goes against everything inside me. But you have to understand it from Petunia's point of view. She hated her sister and everything to do with her sister. She thought these cult people had killed her parents, she knew they killed her sister and the husband and tried to kill the boy once. Someone was clearly watching her house and could get in and out of her house without her even knowing about it. Would you be scared? For both yourself, you husband and your child? It isn't a pleasant or good reason but it is an understandable reason all the same."

Doris was asked a few more questions before she was dismissed. Finally, they called an end to the trial for the day. Harry knew he wouldn't be called on tomorrow or probably any time within the next week and that the trial was going to drag on and on and on. Harry was startled when someone set a hand on his shoulder and nearly attacked until Dumbledore said, "Well my boy, this has certainly been an enlightening day."

He nodded and looked around to make sure no one was near. "Do you think someone was using magic to keep me in the house?"

"That is certainly a possibility, Harry. And it is one I will be looking into." Dumbledore had the hard look Harry had seen so often during the war and knew whoever had played around with his life was about to meet the harder side of Albus Dumbledore.

Melinda took hold of his shoulder, made their excuses to Dumbledore and McGonagall, and led him from the courtroom. "I'm up for some lunch, how about you Harry? It'll be good for me to eat something that I haven't had a hand in cooking."

Harry agreed and let her lead him through the pack of reporters, both Muggle and Magical, to a small café near the courthouse that he was sure got a lot of customers. They were silent as they gave their orders to a harried looking waitress. When they got their food, Melinda discreetly waved her wand and set up a privacy ward. Then she started asking him questions about Quidditch and his favorite team, which he didn't actually have, and which team he thought had a chance in the Cup this year. Harry told her that he would bet his right arm that the Moutohora Macaws and the Gorodok Gargoyles were going to the Cup and that the Macaws would win. Harry had spent enough time with Ron as a child to know everything about all the World Cups that had happened in the last fifty years. He knew very well every play made in the Cups that happened when he'd been friends with the red haired boy. He was relatively sure his being from the future wouldn't change them because he had nothing to do with profession Quidditch. "We can make that bet with the goblins if you want, Harry."

Harry just nodded and continued going on about the one subject that was completely safe and he was knowledgeable enough of. Now that he was actually talking about it he realized just how much he missed his favorite sport. He hadn't been to any of the games that year and so hadn't seen it played in years. But sitting in this tiny café with Melinda talking about the sport he'd loved throughout his childhood made him remember Oliver Wood and the Chasers and the Twins and how much fun practice had always been even with Wood being a nutcase. Maybe he'd arrange to go to a few games during the summer. See if there were any near the places he needed to be.

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**P.S.** For all those of you who asked and I haven't got back to you for one reason or another: yes the titled of the last chapter was for Luna.

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**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added:** October 28, 2010


	15. Chapter 19: Scribing Script

**Title: A New Chance Continued**

**Author: **pyrodaemon

**Author of Original Story:** Curalium Lacrimo

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/ Luna Lovegood

**Rating: **M for Future Content

**Archived:** under pyrodaemon

**Beta:** Blueowl (any mistakes are on me)

**Website:** /group /pyrodaemon87/ its ya hoo in the beginning but FFN keeps taking out the ya hoo.

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

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**Chapter Nineteen**

**Scribing Script**

Sometimes it didn't seem like there was enough time in a day to complete everything Harry wanted to get done. At other times it seemed like time dragged on where he was at a standstill, knowing what needed to be done but unable to actually get anything accomplished, or even started which would have made him feel a little better. When Harry was doing something productive, time flew by on a bird's wing but when he wasn't it crawled by on the back of a snail.

Life wasn't easy, Harry knew that better than most anyone, but it was overwhelming in ways he hadn't been ready for. Mostly because when he was going through his school years last time he'd really only had to worry about regular every day things – Quidditch, class, homework, making sure Hermione and Ron didn't kill each other, and girls with the occasional life threatening danger thrown in at the end of the year with the yearly mystery. Harry had tunnel vision last time around, being so focused on what he was doing that he'd been able to ignore everything else he didn't want to think about.

That denial of what was really happening in the world had been the only thing that got him through his time at the Dursleys and it had been good for that but it had handicapped him in the real world. When he should have been studying and making sure he was up to snuff, he'd been trying to be a normal kid with magic. His obsession with being normal was, as Hermione pointed out to him two years after they left Hogwarts, a byproduct of living under Petunia's high heel shod feet for sixteen years. Harry, however, would never be normal; his fate had been decided long before he'd been born. It had only taken him some nine years to acknowledge and a few more years to accept it.

Now Harry knew exactly what would happen if he didn't concentrate and he also understood where the world would end up if it continued down its current path. However, altering it was really too much for one person alone.

Changing the fate of the entire world? How was one person, even Harry Potter, as politically and magically powerful as he was, supposed to do that alone when he was physically an eleven year old kid? He'd already started by tutoring his classmates; they were loads better now than they'd been even at the end of third year last time around because everyone could officially cast at least one defensive jinx and curse. And how pathetic was that? That being able to cast two spells in the middle of their first year made them better than at the end of their third? Lupin had tried and as a professor he had done all right in what they were supposed to have been learning in their third year but even he couldn't make up for the woefully incompetent teachers. Their first two years of education had, for the most part, irreparably handicapped them for the rest of their education. Voldemort couldn't have done a better job at disabling his enemies if he'd planned to.

Harry was sure that Voldemort hadn't meant for this all to happen when he cast the curse that didn't allow others to hold the Defense position. He'd done it in a fit of temper — the old childish standby of breaking your toy so no one else can have it. The end results worked for the evil monster, though. Without the training needed to counter the Death Eaters, the public at large under forty or so didn't stand a chance. In McGonagall's time no one had been allowed to pass their fourth year without being able to cast at least one shield charm (the usual one used in the UK and most of France was Protego but there were others in the world that worked slightly different). Of the adults under forty, one in fifteen could cast a shielding charm and of those numbers one in ten could cast it effectively enough for it to actually block a real attack. Most of those adults were Aurors, Hit Wizards, or professional Duelists. Those statistics were _terrible_ when you considered that those same adults had lived through one of the arguably worst wars in Wizarding history. It was the equivalent of the Nazis and Hitler in World War II and their tactics were the same for the most part. The Blood War started in the same way WWII had in that Voldemort slowly drew people over to his side in the same way Hitler did, they'd both gone from nothing to the 'leader' of the world. It was rather frightening to think about. That two completely different people had come to the same conclusion about an entire group of people because they had Daddy issues or Mommy issues.

And the way they labeled their enemies was the same. Generally Purebloods believed if you knew how closely related to a Muggle you were it was too close to be a Pureblood but the official rule was if all four of your grandparents were witch or wizard then you could consider yourself a pureblood. That was the same way people were labeled as Jew or non-Jew in WWII, as far as Harry knew. At least he was sure Hermione had told him that at one point.

The same part was that by and large no one had done anything to protect themselves. They'd looked to the Ministry and demanded that they do the protecting but there had only been so many Aurors and they themselves were in trouble. By the end of the war there had only been one Auror for every hundred people and it had been impossible for them to do anything but scramble to keep up with the more proactive Death Eaters. It hadn't always been that bad a ratio but with the rate Aurors were dying there was simply no way to replace them fast enough. It didn't help that people like Fudge saw the low number of Aurors and figured, 'hey we're doing a good job' with two Aurors for every hundred people. But he completely forgot that before the Muggle War (which is what Grindlewald's war was named) where a great many Aurors had been killed defending Britain and the Blood War where even more Aurors had been killed the ratio of Auror to civilian had been six to fifty. Harry remembered Mrs. Weasley complaining about the crime rate and how in her childhood the Black Market wasn't anything like it is today. And that's because people knew there were enough Aurors to keep a very close watch on things not because the world is getting worse. In these times, with the Auror Force cut to a mere percentage of what it had been there simply wasn't enough people even with every Auror working six days a week and 12 hour shifts and there wasn't enough funds for that to be a reality. Most Aurors only worked a bare eight hours and five days a week.

Frankly, Harry was at a loss on how to help people when they refused to help themselves. He'd have to start thinking about that harder. It was nearly four years until Voldemort came back. That was enough time to get through at least another class or two of Aurors which could beef up the Auror Force quite a lot. He'd have to do some serious thinking in order to figure out how to manipulate Fudge into creating a larger Auror Force.

Harry threw himself down on his bed and tossed his arm over his eyes. During the war, this was the motion that told his friends he needed some time off. It was a clear sign that his mind was running in circles and that he was going to spiral down into a depression if someone didn't do something. It was when he needed to be able to just go and relax with someone who would just talk to him without mention of the war or how angry they were that they'd lost people. It was a time Harry needed to stop wondering how he was going to 'do his job' in finally killing the Dark Lord.

But Harry didn't have any good friends here; no one who could read him, and no one who knew what to do even if they could read the signs. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then another. Hermione had tried to teach him meditation in his last life but he hadn't learned it until she disappeared. It didn't help him all the time but it was better than nothing. Learning Occlumency both had and hadn't helped Harry in meditation. Occlumency was a difficult craft because there was no way to truly clear your mind despite what Snape kept shouting at him over and over again in his fifth year at Hogwarts. A perfect Occlumens is able to sort of shut their emotions off, bury them so deeply that no one can feel them which leads to a clearer mind. But having a clear mind isn't always good.

Harry could not practice this form of Occlumency; his emotions were too much a part of him for him to shut them off without an extreme amount of concentration and a good amount of time. Harry relied on his emotions to power his spells and to get himself through his life. He wouldn't have tried nearly as hard to defeat Voldemort if he hadn't had his emotions powering his drive to learn and fight. Harry believed that was the problem with Snape — he closed off his emotions so often that he didn't even know what he really felt. He never used them, not like Harry did at any rate.

Stubbornness and a born sense of self allowed Harry to form his own branch of Occlumency in that he used his emotions to keep his mind on one subject. In his last life it had usually been Quidditch, but he wasn't sure if he was passionate enough about it now – seeing as he hadn't been on a broom in years without it being a life or death situation and that tended to sour your opinion of even the most well-loved things. Well, whatever he chose, it would have to be one thing. Concentrating on just one subject allowed him to build himself up until he could sort of grasp the Legilimens mental probe then throw all of his feelings at his attacker until the Legilimens was so overwhelmed they had to retreat. This was particularly good to use against Voldemort since the psychopath couldn't cope with positive feelings; it had gotten the older wizard every time. It wasn't just love that got the man, though that actually hurt him a great deal, giving him severe headaches and bleeding from the nose (and on a really great day) eyes and ears, but true happiness, joy, and simple liking was enough to force the man to retreat. Harry would have used the love method every time but when Voldemort hurt so did everyone around him. It caused him to be more vicious than he normally was. And that was saying quite a bit, seeing as his MO encompasses cruelty and viciousness with nothing to even it out. Harry's Occlumency wasn't perfect by any means but it was effective and that's all he could ask for. Oh he could build the shields in his mind and he could push his emotions down as far as possible but it took so much concentration that it made living a life impossible. He could even block Snape using those skills but it was only temporary, unlike his 'hit it with enough force' take on Occlumency.

Although Harry couldn't use traditional Occlumency to keep people out of his head, he could use it to tamp down overwhelming emotion when he had enough time to concentrate and that's just what he did now. When he was calm enough he sat up and went to his trunk to get out his List. He hadn't looked at it in months but it had been a good start to lay out what he should be doing.

He'd been training his body, his Occlumency was as good as it ever got but practice was always good, he hadn't touched the Horcrux issue at all, nor had he been to Grimmauld Place. Remus was a possibility and he'd have to see if he could find any mention of the man so he had an excuse to write to him. He hadn't spoken to the Weasley Twins, let alone had any effect on their grades or prank items. He'd started getting used to being around people again. He no longer had to force himself not to hex those around him when they stepped into his personal space but he doubted he was in any way normal in that regard yet — assuming h ever would be. He needed to spend more time in the bar talking to people. Maybe he'd do his homework at a table and ask Tom for advice. People were so nosy, in both the Muggle and Wizarding Worlds, that they would probably offer their own advice regardless of whether he asked for it or not. He had no real reason to speak to Rita Skeeter unless he wanted to go over what happened the night his parents died (which he didn't) or talk about what happened when he was growing up (which he didn't). And now that he thought about it he wasn't even sure if he wanted to speak to Skeeter at all, or _ever_. Perhaps another reporter would be better? They couldn't all be lying, rumormongers could they? He was learning more but he wasn't sure exactly how much he was absorbing or if it would be any help at all in the coming war.

Harry was staying in the Leaky Cauldron so he had a better chance of staying in touch with the Wizarding World. He hadn't started gathering blackmail on Fudge yet but he was going to rectify that oversight as soon as possible. Hermione had invented a spell during the war that allowed their side to spy on Voldemort and his camp without anyone figuring it out. It had still been working till just before Harry came back to the past — it had been how he knew that Voldemort was going to be at the Ministry that night. He hadn't seen Umbridge but if he could get away with it he would kill the woman. She had done more damage to their side of the war than anyone save Voldemort, Bellatrix, and Lucius. He hated her almost as much as he hated Voldemort and would take a great deal of pleasure in her death.

Harry had already sent Sirius a care package and he no longer needed to worry about putting a spell on Pettigrew because he was in custody. He had some vague plans about defeating Voldemort this year — not defeat-defeat him but drive him away. However, he didn't want to do that too soon because the longer Voldemort was in Quirrell's body the less chance he had of causing trouble elsewhere and when he was finally forced to flee all the strength he'd managed to gather while in Quirrell's body would be lost in the attempt to flee. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer and all that jazz. Perhaps he could figure out a way to put the spying spell on Voldemort so he would know where the man was at all times. If he managed to connect the spell to Voldemort's spirit then the man's own magic would power the spell and he'd assist in his own downfall. Harry really, really liked the irony of that.

He would need to get a pensive to make more money. War efforts always cost more than most people thought they should and part of the reason they'd been losing last time was due to the people they needed on the front lines, so to speak, hadn't been able to leave their jobs. Everyone needed to eat, after all. He wasn't sure if Lucius would give the diary to Ginny again but he hoped so because the second he had that diary in his hands the Malfoy family's usefulness would run out. He would kill all three shortly after that. After all, Sirius should be released in the next year and Lucius had done a very stupid thing in making Sirius Black his secondary heir. He'd done it because Sirius hadn't had a Will made before going to Azkaban like the young fool he was so Narcissa Malfoy (nee Black) would be the Black Heir and they'd inherit everything that came with it.

It was a very old annoying law but it was still on the books. Lucius never thought anyone would be able – or 'stupid' enough – to kill him and Draco but Harry had no political connects and feared no man. Making Sirius his secondary heir had made him, or rather his wife, Sirius' secondary heir. Taking Malfoy's money and spending it to keep the war effort going was going to be very satisfying. Harry didn't really like himself for considering killing Draco because to him Draco was still the cowardly berk who'd let Death Eater's into Hogwarts and had chosen his path but Harry also knew that Draco _now_ was just a child and how much could he have done to allow Harry to execute him? Not much Harry was willing to believe because the boy hadn't even had the balls to kill Dumbledore when Dumbledore was powerless, wandless and at his mercy.

He hadn't been to Borgin and Burkes to get the Vanishing Cabinets but he would do that before break ended. It would be nice to set the Cabinet up in his dorm at Hogwarts and be able to leave Hogwarts whenever he wanted without catching Dumbledore's eyes. Because despite what some people claimed the wards did not allow the Headmaster to spy on a person and the house elves would not report on movements to the Headmaster. The portraits did and the ghosts as well but nothing else.

He also needed to stop by the optometrists on Margin Alley sometime before break ended because he was sure his prescription wasn't correct and he wanted to see if he could get charms put on his glasses that would be permanent. He wasn't looking for anything that allowed him to see through invisibility cloaks or anything like that. Instead, he wanted glasses that wouldn't fall (or be Summoned) off his face, fog up or become dirty and smudged. Those traits were more invaluable than most people without glasses would ever understand. The magical tents he'd gotten in the Room of Requirement had yet to be checked for soundness, as he still wasn't sure if they'd be safe to use but he was equally sure he could fix whatever was wrong with them given time. Which he apparently had plenty of. He had his father's cloak along with the four invisibility cloaks he'd gotten from the Room and useful items were relatively easy to come by. And there really was no telling what would be useful and what wasn't so collecting bits of odds and ends would be the best way to go about collecting 'useful items'. Maybe he'd make a bag like the handy little purse Hermione had made during her seventh year at without it seeming to weigh all that much.

Of the 25 items on his list he'd only accomplished four things and five more that were either long term or he'd partly accomplished (like with the tents). He felt like a bit of a failure, after all, he'd been back in the Wizarding World for three months and what had he accomplished? Sure, Dumbledore was watching him rather intently at school but that was really no excuse. Well, all right, so it was an excuse but he still felt he needed to be doing more. Much more than he was.

He pushed those emotions down. He wasn't the most patient of people but he knew that rushing into something because of frustration was the way to destroy everything. It was still quite frustrating and he hated waiting, but from experience he knew bad things happened to hasty people.

Which led him to making a list that he could carry out before going back to school.

Go to the optometrist and see about a new pair of glasses (or several new pairs depending on what's there) and what kind of useful spells they can put on them

Buy the vanishing Cabinet

Start hanging out in the bar of the LC

Send Padfoot another care package

See about the defenses around the Ring in Little Hangleton (maybe)

See if Umbridge hangs around the Alley - kill her if possible

Get a pensive

Start going through the second hand shops in the Alley

Nothing on the list was all that hard other than possibly killing Umbridge but he'd keep his eyes open. Maybe he'd see if he could dig up some blackmail material on her and potentially Fudge, that was his next goal.

He'd make an appointment at the optometrist that day and then go to his appointment whenever it was. The Cabinet could also be bought, and the care package would be easy to put together. Also doing his homework, checking out the second hand shops and seeing if Umbridge was ever around the Alley wouldn't be hard so much as long term. The Ring was going to be more difficult. He'd either have to Apparate, take a portkey or take Muggle transportation to get there and then he would have to worry about the defenses. Wards had never been his specialty — that was what Bill had been for. Oh he could take down nearly any ward, it was just a matter of pushing as much power as he could and overloading the Ward Stone but doing so when there were possible traps and such mixed into the Ward Scheme? That was more Bill's territory. Harry was always called in after it was mostly safe with all the traps and such taken down so he could bring down the main Ward.

Harry picked up his bag and went to sit in the bar at a corner table and spread out his homework. He worked for several hours with fifteen people stopping by to talk to him or offer advice on what he was working on. He was always polite and took their advice under consideration and hoped that each person walked away with a higher opinion of themselves. When the morning and lunch rush died down Melinda came and sat with him, her brow raised. "I thought all your homework was done."

"It is. This is for the rest of the year." Harry shrugged.

"I forget that Hogwarts gives out their core work for the year in advance. I don't know anyone who actually does the homework in advance though."

"That's because you've never met Hermione Granger. I'm trying to stay ahead of her in school and doing this all now makes it easier to do so. I can fully concentrate on doing my school work in a series, such as doing all the Transfiguration and seeing how it all relates to each other in a row instead of spending an hour on Potions, Charms, and Defense each day. It makes it easier to get through school. Do all the pre-assigned work as soon as possible so you have time to spend on the work that each teacher will assign as needed. Speaking of as needed, could you take me to the optometrist? I don't think my glasses are quite right."

"Sure, sweetheart, just give me a few minutes to clean up. And don't leave your books lying on the table. I don't mind you doing it out here, good for business and such for the Boy-Who-Lived sitting in the bar." Here she laughed and Harry knew she was teasing him. "But I won't have you taking up a table when you're not even here."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry nodded and cleared away his mess, shoving everything into his bag then carefully, so no one saw him, sent the strongest cleaning and disinfecting spell he knew at the table, surprised when an entire layer of what Harry had thought was varnish came away, reveling itself to be years of packed on dirt. He felt a little dirty just sitting in the room now that he knew just how much dirt surrounded him. He'd fix that while he was here. He just couldn't understand how people let things get this bad.

"Uh." Melinda looked at the table, which was a noticeably different color than the tables that surrounded it. "What happened here?" she asked, her hands on her hips, her right brow raised.

"Well…I may have used a spell to clean the table. Did you know it was this dirty?"

"I didn't. This is Tom's domain and he gets pretty prissy when I enter it. Probably because I harp at him to clean the place up. I didn't realize it was this bad or I never would have allowed it to continue." She frowned as she looked around. "Unfortunately, neither Tom nor I are very good at charms. It's why the place doesn't look all that spiffy. And it's so expensive to get someone in here who can do the charms. You have to get them in every week or so to cast them again and again."

"I could do it." Harry offered, wanting to do something to repay the Dodderidges for all their help and kindness. "But why don't you use a scrub brush and use good old elbow grease?"

"Because this is a highly magical place and with all the magic being used here and the ambient magic in the Alley the dirt here can't be done away without magic."

"But Hogwarts-"

"The detentions right? Yeah they just do that because they want to punish you. The house elves take care of the actual cleaning. You aren't doing anything by scrubbing the floors, although the cauldrons are a different story."

He grumbled about that mentally but to him it was just another example of the sadistic nature of his professors. As if he needed another example. "What about if I clean everything during the rest of the break and then set up some Runes around the place to keep it clean? Then when I come back during the breaks I can give everything a good, deep cleaning again and make sure the Runes are up to snuff."

"That's a lovely idea, Harry. After we get done at Old Ratcliff's we'll go to the Ministry to get you a special license to do magic for your new job."

"Can anyone do that?"

"Sure they can. Most don't because their parents will never let them get a job during the summer but I don't see a reason for that nonsense thinking. Better for the kids to get a good look at the menial jobs around so they'll work harder in school instead of letting them coast by and have them suck in those jobs for the rest of their lives." Melinda shook her head sadly. "I'm not saying I hate my life or anything, mind you, but if I knew how hard I'd have to work when we bought this place I'm not sure I would have done so. And I would have never been a strong witch but if I'd paid better attention in school I might be in a better place. Or not, who really knows," she said as she led them out the back and into the Alley.

"I didn't know people could be weak magically."

"Oh sure," Melinda said as she lead the way through the crowded Alley. It wasn't quite back to school shopping (which generally happened in the two days before school was due to start for Winter Holidays) but there was enough people out that it took some work to get through the place. "Of course there are Squibs, who can't actually use magic but can use potions – which strict Muggles can't – and then there is varying levels of power. Most people score a 5 on the Magical Evaluation. An ME of 5 means that you can get through Hogwarts without a lot of struggle, though you'll never be anything to write home about based on power alone. There are loads of people who become really good at using magic who wouldn't score more than a five on the ME though, and that's just them being creative and using what they can in ways that most people wouldn't think of. Having a high ME doesn't mean anything if you don't use it and having a low ME doesn't mean anything if you're intelligent. I score a 3 and struggled throughout my entire Hogwarts career but Tom was only a 2. A 1 is a Squib by the way and it can go into negatives for Muggles. 0 means that they can use some potions, anything lower means they're out of luck. Rumors have it that Dumbledore scores a 9 and Voldemort an 8. Merlin scored a 13."

"How does that work?"

"Oh I don't know. I just know it works and will give you an idea of what you need to work on. I get by just fine with minimal magic and that works for me. We'll get you tested if you want but it's pretty expensive. Most people get tested during their NEWT year because the potion and spell used are difficult and tell the teachers of Potions and Charms how good you're going to do on the NEWTs and what you need to work on. Though I would assume that the teachers have at least some idea of your power level before the test."

"I think we can wait." Harry shook his head. It didn't really matter to him what his ME was because he was still going to kick Voldemort's ass.

The trip to Margin Alley and Old Ratcliff's was a little longer than Harry expected it to be and the things inside the shop were crazy. There were regular eyeglasses like you'd see in any Muggle shop then there were these contraptions that Harry didn't even know how to describe. They looked a little like those geeky full head braces gear he'd seen on some unfortunate person when he lived on Privet Drive. Then there were goggles that seemed to have eight or nine different lens it could flip between and it looked just _odd_ to have that many lens sticking all over the place. Then there were goggles big enough to cover a person's entire head. Harry glanced around awed. The magical world _**never**_ disappointed.

"Hello, how can I – oh, hello, Mrs. Dodderidge!" The girl who'd appeared out of nowhere was wearing a light pink set of robes and looked a bit like a Barbie: blonde, blue eyed and breasts large enough that even Harry took notice and a tiny waist that was emphasized with one of those fancy belt contraptions.

"We're here to get Harry some new glass for his glasses. He thinks the prescription on his old glasses was off so the new ones he got for Christmas just aren't cutting it."

The girl – she couldn't have been older than 18 – went to raise her wand but Harry flinched violently so she froze. "I'm only going to cast a spell on your glasses then on your eyes to see if the prescription has changed."

Harry nodded but watched her with wide eyes, the better to watch every move the woman made. He felt the magic tingle over his eyes and turned inward to see what it was doing, ready to strike out and shove the magic from his eyes if he needed to. He relaxed a little when the woman's wand tapped his old glasses and watched as she frowned. "Honey, your prescription is completely wrong! When did you get these checked?"

Harry shrugged. "I think I might have been eight maybe seven."

She looked horrified. "Well first let's pick out the spells for a new pair for you. Standard is a shattering charm on the glass-"

"Wait, don't I want them unbreakable?"

"Absolutely not!" She shook her head and laughed. "Imagine if something hit you really hard in the face and instead of your glasses just breaking they move with whatever it is that hit you. You'd be lucky to keep your eyes where they're supposed to be and your cheek bones intact. No, the shattering charm will make sure the glass and metal break apart then they'll fly _away_ from your face instead of toward you. There's also a charm to repel dirt, moisture and grease. It's standard but the upkeep on it can get pretty expensive and time consuming. It's six sickles every seven months and the charms take hours to replace and renew."

Harry nodded and walked around the shop. He ended up choosing the standard charms on his glasses from Christmas and two pairs of new glasses that didn't have any charms or spells on them. His brain was already moving, trying to figure out what kinds of spells he could place on his glasses to help him later. That was, of course, going to have to wait for him to finish his self-assigned chores. Then he wanted to go look at all the little bits and bobs stores around the alley and even into Muggle London.

Melinda took him to the Ministry where they got him the magic exception with little fuss, other than having to sign an autograph for the clerk's daughter, niece and sister-in-law. And herself of course.

When they got back to the Cauldron there were very few customers in the room and Tom was glaring down at the clean table. "Who the hell replaced my table?" he grumbled, glaring at Melinda.

"No one replaced it, you ass!" she snapped back. "It's filthy. Harry accidentally used magic and cleaned it and look at how filthy it was!"

It was really a noticeable difference. Now he knew that the wood was actually blond and that it was stained the same golden as the actual wood. He stepped around the two arguing adults and went to work. He shot an overpowered spell at the floor and watched as what looked like centuries of dirt, soot and grease started to collect in a pile at his feet. The pile grew and grew as he started on the walls and didn't notice when Tom and Melinda stopped arguing and the four people at the tables all started staring at him. By the time he got to the ceiling the pile was big enough to need a bucket to hold it. When the ceiling was done he moved onto the tables then just for the hell of it cleaned the three fireplaces, making them look like the brick maker just pulled them from the fire. Harry took a deep cleansing breath and then went to work on strengthening the mortar between the bricks, seeing that some of it was weakening (but after nearly nine hundred years you couldn't really ask for better quality). He didn't have a specific spell in mind, he'd gotten so used to not using spells at all that he didn't really shape most spells anymore. He just told his magic what he wanted to do, watched as it took shape then 'held' the shape of the magic so the spell would last longer than the usual moment.

When he was done he looked around and noticed that the room was much, much brighter than it had been before. The dingy grey, black and brown colors and the shabby look of the place was gone, now replaced with bright golden woods, scrubbed light grey stone and even the fireplace was now clean. He sat down on the nearest stool and took a deep breath. "That was a lot more tiring than I thought it would be."

"You can silent cast?" Melinda asked, her shock clear in her voice. Harry debated for a second on whether to be offended then remembered that he was only a first year with just over four months of learning behind him. Of course she'd be surprised.

"I was bored in class and one of the sixth years left their school books out one night. Well really he fell asleep studying and I'd already read my school books backwards and forwards so decided to nick his. It told me all about silent casting so I decided that after I got the spell right the first time in class I'd practice until I could cast it silently instead of sitting there like a useless lump. It's not hard anymore. I can cast pretty much anything silently that I can cast aloud."

Melinda floundered for a moment or two, not entirely sure what to say before she smiled. "Would you like a snack? You look exhausted."

"I am and I would. Thank you."

He sat there taking deep breaths. He felt like he'd run from Surrey to London, like he had to breathe harder than normal but his breathing was fine. It was an odd feeling and he didn't like it. At least when his body needed to pant he panted but this not needing to but doing it anyways? Odd.

Harry knew it was a reaction to using too much magic in too short a time. He rarely had that problem in the future because 'too much' usually meant unconsciousness but he'd finished what he was doing this time without passing out so was left with the empty feeling of not having something he needed and his body interpreting that something as air. He wasn't sure why that was but it was and he didn't question it unless he was bored out of his mind. The circles that could take a person on were dizzying.

Melinda came back in with a plate of snack foods and a large glass of pumpkin juice. Harry ate it so quickly a person might have thought magic was used to make it disappear but by the time he was finished he felt better and his magic had regenerated enough that he could get up and move around. He started writing out the Runes he'd need, (mainly ones he saw on the table during his lunch with Luna Lovegood oddly enough) and was happy enough to spend the evening placing the Runes. He wouldn't be able to power them until he had a good night's sleep but writing them out took no magic. Even Muggles could write Runes. They'd never get them powered but they could write them.

By the time he finished dinner, showered and dressed he felt more worn out than he remembered ever being. Usually when he used too much magic he was kept unconscious in a hospital bed to make sure he regenerated his magic the proper way without jumping back in and taking the world on again before he was ready.

The next morning after completing his daily exercises Harry went to work powering up the Runes and decided on a Rune system for the walls and ceiling. Of course everything would be tied together and it would be a rather large, ugly Rune system. He was debating on how to hide it when he heard Melinda come in after cleaning up from the breakfast rush.

"Problems, Harry?"

"Not a problem exactly. I was wanting to write out a system of Runes to keep the walls, hearth and ceiling clean but the system needs such a large area that it is going to be _huge_ and ugly."

"Well it doesn't have to be pretty, does it?" Melinda asked.

Harry shook his head with a scowl. "I'm not used to leaving things half-assed. If it isn't aesthetically pleasing then it isn't finished. But I can't think of what would make it so." Suddenly Hermione's voice reciting a passage from _Hogwarts: A History_ years ago popped into his head.

"_When Hogwarts moved to large tables to seat the entire House instead of smaller tables to host groups of friends there were questions of how to keep everything monitored. The smaller tables were easier to monitor because you had five or six tables around two of the professors and he or she could listen to them to keep them out of trouble. But with the longer tables it was found that the troublemakers would sit as far away from the head table as possible and cause all kinds of mischief. So the twelfth Headmaster of Hogwarts wrote up a Rune system to be able to hear anything in the Great Hall at any time. If a teacher thinks a student or group looks dodgy they can say the student's name and be able to hear what they're saying. Of course the Rune system is hidden under the charm on the ceiling so no one knows it's there unless they read __**Hogwarts: A History**__ and so few people actually do."_

"Melinda what would you say to having a charm on the ceiling like the one at Hogwarts?"

"Can you do that?" Melinda's eyes were wide and delighted.

"Not at the moment but during summer break I'm sure I'll be able to."

"That would be beyond lovely! And it would hide the Rune system?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well then let me talk to Tom. He'd get angry if I agreed to it and he didn't have a say, stubborn old goat that he is. But it's definitely a go."

"That won't get you into any trouble? Having the gateway to the Muggle World so blatantly Wizard?"

"Harry, Muggles can't come into the Cauldron without being lead by a witch or wizard."

"So a Muggle-born's parents can't come pick up supplies for their without the child being present?"

"What? Oh no. I should have said 'Muggles can't come into the Cauldron without being lead by a witch or wizard the first time'. After that they can get here on their own." She grinned. "So there's no worries of breaking the Secret."

"But what if a tiny child, like a three year old, came rushing in and his parents follow him?"

"Then we Charm the place out of both their minds and when they get the address they'll remember and wonder how they possibly forgot. Don't worry Harry we've been at this business for quite a long time."

Harry nodded and strolled off to his room to do some serious thinking that he'd been trying to put off.

Someone and Harry didn't know who, had continued to place him back with the Dursleys even though he'd been nearly removed from the house several times. He couldn't think of a single person who would benefit from him being treated that way with that same person going through the trouble of not just killing him. Well, Harry understood that there would be some people (Death Eaters) who _would_ get off on the thought of the Boy-Who-Lived being tortured that way. But this was a long-term plan and Harry couldn't imagine Death Eaters going into the Muggle World to make sure he stayed with the Dursleys. Despite the majority of Death Eaters coming from Slytherin Harry had never seen anything that made him think they were capable of the patience needed for a long term plan. They were all impatient and rash and more like what Snape said Gryffindors were like. Even Voldemort himself was rash and even when he created long-term plans they were so convoluted that they rarely ever worked the way the man thought they should. And that always lead to a bad day had by all.

"Harry, dear?" Melinda knocked on his door.

"Come in," he called, looking up from where he'd been writing down his debate.

"I brought you a snack, dear, you work so hard." She set the tray down on his desk, after he'd cleared away a few books, and ruffled his hair. "I want you to take a break and drink your tea and eat your snack. Dinner will be ready in about three hours. Anything you want?"

"No, ma'am, everything makes me happy."

Her smile widened. "You're such a good, accommodating boy." She pressed a kiss to the crown of his head and turned to go about her business, shutting his door on the way out.

Harry took a sip of his tea and ate a bite of the sandwich she'd brought him. He could honestly say that he had no idea who'd have the patience to keep him at the Dursleys for so many years _or_ the connections to law enforcement and child services to know when someone was investigating the Dursleys and himself. Harry didn't really want to but perhaps he'd go to a few more of the trial dates just to see what else was happening.

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**As always any questions or comments can reach me through review or PM and I'll do my best to answer.**

**Added: **December 3, 2012

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**P.S.** I'm so very sorry about the long wait. I have most of the next chapter done and an outline for the one after that so it shouldn't take very long to finish at least the next two. I promise and cross my heart that there will be a chapter up at least once a month but I will shoot for more often. Thank you everyone for your patience. I am also making my way through my reviews so if it hasn't been answered yet it will be in the next two days (I'm off work so it works out).


	16. Chapter 20: War Stories

"Harry, Floo Call!" Melinda's voice echoed throughout his room.

"Be right there!"

Harry carefully marked his place in his book and went out to greet whoever was calling him. Seeing a person's head floating in a green fire was always disconcerting but seeing Seamus' was somehow even more so. Probably because he was making grotesque faces while waiting for Harry to appear. The blond Irish boy's idea of a good way to pass time wasn't exactly normal by any stretch of the imagination. "Seamus."

"Hey, Harry, how's it going? I'm sorry I haven't contacted you yet but me Mum surprised me with a trip to America to meet some family that went over that way and I got to see a horse and have a ride around. It was only a Muggle horse but it was still pretty cool. Do you think Care Of Magical Creatures will have horses during Third Year?"

Harry's brow furrowed as he tried to figure out what were questions and what were just ramblings. "It's alright that you didn't call earlier. I've been fine here, no need for a rescue. America sounds interesting and you seem to have had a good time. I've never seen a horse before in person. I don't think we have horses at Hogwarts but I know Thestrals pull the carriages and they're sort of like horses with wings only they're skeletal and more leather or scales than fur. There are also hippogriffs that live in the forest that Hagrid has tamed that are taught to the Fourth Years in Care of Magical Creatures which you can start taking when you're a Third Year. They're a type of horse crossed with an eagle."

"Really? Whoa cool!" Seamus' head bounced like one of those inane bobble head things that Harry often saw on the dash boards of passing cars when he was wandering Muggle London. "I'm taking Care during Third Year! Do you want to go out to the shops today? Mum's given me some spending money and I want to get something cool for Hogwarts before all the good stuff's gone. Mum says as long as we stay together with my older brother then we can go. It's way not fair because Ernie, you remember him from tutoring? Anyways, his Mum has let him go to the shops on his own since he was eight! Can you believe that?" Seeing as Harry had been doing the shopping for his aunt since he was seven he didn't understand what the big deal was but made an agreeing noise in the back of his throat. "And he's been allowed in Muggle London alone since he was ten! How cool would that be?"

"Melinda lets me roam Muggle London alone."

"Really? See, I knew Mum was being uptight! Maybe I can convince her with that argument." Seamus got a sly look on his face, which looked positively comical, before he shook his head. "So you want to go around to the shops? Mark will probably leave us alone after he gets bored and as long as we don't get into any trouble that would get back to me Mum she'll never know we were alone."

"Unless she's standing behind you while you tell me this." Seamus' eyes widened and he jerked his head away, keeping one arm in the Floo. Harry chuckled as Seamus came back looking sheepish. "I'd like to go around with you. Come on through while I tell Melinda."

Harry took off toward the kitchen and told Melinda that he was going with Seamus to look at the Alley before racing to get his bag of gold and returning to the front room to find Seamus staring around him in wonder. "When'd they do all this?"

"I did it." Harry was proud of himself because the place really did look better and it was easier on Tom and Melinda who didn't have to go around cleaning up after people anymore. Harry had even added a Rune that sent the dishes to the kitchen automatically when the customer left the dining room. During the summer Harry was going to go around to all the rooms as they were available and clean them, repair anything that needed it then place Runes to keep the place up. Harry had found out that a Rune Master would have charged nearly a thousand galleons to place the simple Runes he'd used in the tavern and had choked on his own spit when told. He had to constantly remind himself that, while it was as easy to him as writing English, to most people — even a Rune Master — writing them out was a long and tedious process that could sometimes take days.

Out of the hundreds of students who took Runes each year at Hogwarts only ten or so in each generation would actually go on to be able to use Runes in their lives and only one or two would go on to be a Master capable of putting Runes to any practical use. That's not to say those ten couldn't use Runes but it was so tedious to do so that most didn't bother even after years and years of study. Even Hermione rarely used Runes and she was probably the smartest person Harry knew. Dumbledore even admitted that she might have been smarter than him on one of the few occasions that they'd had to sit down and talk during the war. She might not have been as talented with magic, as she wasn't very creative or as powerful as some people, but she was incredibly intelligent. It was simply easier to use a spell that took one thousandth of the time and produced the same results. Even if you had to cast the spell every day it was still quicker than using a Rune for most people. For people like Harry, who could instinctively write the Runes out in the perfect form, it was actually better to use the Runes because they lasted longer, up to six months for someone with an ME of 5. Someone like Dumbledore could create the Everlasting Flame which would burn for more than two hundred years. Merlin's Everlasting Flame was still burning in his home, after all. Harry had never had his magic tested and had no real burning desire to. He knew what he could do and what he couldn't do and what he didn't know he learned quickly enough. Getting his ME tested would just put limitations on himself that he didn't need.

Seamus insisted they go to the Quidditch shop first which Harry had no real reason not to. They saw Hermione and her parents and they joined their group as they went searching the Alley for something to blow their money on. Hermione insisted they check out all the used bookstores while Seamus insisted they check out the pawnshops because there was always interesting things there. Harry stood with the elder Grangers as the two of them bickered over where to go. Finally he let out a bark of laughter and dragged them into a consignment shop that he knew had a little of everything: books for Hermione, cool bits and pieces for Seamus and some really useful home goods for the Grangers that they could actually use without fear of breaking the Secret as long as they didn't let anyone examine it closely.

Hermione and Seamus disappeared into the depths of the store while Harry took the elder Grangers to see the objects. "What are these?" Mr. Granger (who insisted they drop the doctor because calling them Dr. and Dr. Granger got confusing for most people) asked, eyeing some of the strange looking things surrounding them.

"These will make your lives much easier," Harry said as he held up a small square that looked like copper but was as flexible as putty. "If you put this on your hot water pipe, for example, you'll never run out of hot water. Or that," he continued, now pointing to a small hand broom and dustpan, "if you take this off the dustpan and put it on the floor it will automatically start sweeping. You can put it out every night when you go to bed and wake up with a small pile of dust that you sweep up before going about your life. There are feather dusters that do the same thing and brushes that will clean dishes automatically. Since you live in a mostly Muggle home you won't have to worry about needing to use magic to get rid of dirt and such."

"Does magic affect that?"

"Yes, ma'am. When you have places of high magical concentrations such as Hogwarts or Diagon Alley then the dirt there will take on magical properties of their own. Nothing useful, mind, like for potions but it comes to the point where you need to use magic to get rid of it."

"Is that what happened in the Leaky Cauldron? We passed through and noticed that it looks far better than it had before. I didn't want to say anything before because, well . . . it would have been rude but it looks brand new now."

"Yes, sir." Harry nodded as he set the objects he'd been holding down. "Tom and Melinda aren't very good at Charms, the branch of magic that includes household chores, so they use good old fashioned scrubbing but in a place that's so highly concentrated with magic that just doesn't work. There are cleaners that can help but that just delays the need for magic."

"Would the magical cleaners not make the dirt more resistant to scrubbing?"

"Yes, ma'am, it would. At Hogwarts for example we have a groundskeeper and Mr. Filch, a custodian, who's supposed to keep up on the daily cleaning of the interior. But he's a Squib, someone born to magical parents who himself isn't magical, so he can't actually use magic to keep up his job. You can tell because some of the spaces in Hogwarts are covered in years of dust. This is because he can't keep up with the high traffic areas of Hogwarts, let alone get to the lower traffic areas."

"Hermione has said something about him, I believe. She says he's rather disagreeable."

Harry nodded with a sigh. "It would, I imagine, be like growing up in a family of geniuses and being only average, or worse — below average yourself. Your siblings would tease you, though they wouldn't really mean to hurt your feelings, and your parents would be disappointed in you no matter how much they tried to hide it. For older wizarding families especially, he'd be lucky if he wasn't constantly scared out of his wits by them trying to make him do magic. There's a boy we go to school with who's Great Uncle pushed him into a lake when he was younger and couldn't swim and who dropped him out of a window trying to make him do magic."

"That's terrible."

"To us and to poor Neville it is but it's . . . a status symbol. We go to school with four Weasleys and there are two more older boys besides. To the magical world if you have that many children and they're all magical then you are raised in the eyes of those who that kind of thing matters too. Not only that but all the Weasleys are talented. The eldest is a Curse Breaker for Gringotts, the second eldest is a dragon tamer, Percy is a Prefect and has outstanding grades, the Twins are master pranksters which doesn't sound like much but they actually invent their own products to use as tools which takes a great deal of creativity, intelligence and you have to really know the subjects you use to make the prank items. So far Ron has proven to be lazy and even though he doesn't work at all hard for his grades his still in the top twenty percent. Having only one or two children and having a Squib would lower their standing. It's a really small community, remember, so everyone knows just about everyone and if they don't know you personally they know six or seven people who do. Think of it as old bluebloods, if there was a test that allowed you to claim that your blood is worthy and you fail. What do you think people would think of their parents?"

"That does explain rather a lot. Hermione mentioned a war that took place a decade or so ago."

"The Blood Wars." Harry nodded. "How much do you know of them?"

"Not much, honestly. Professor McGonagall was…reluctant to speak of it."

"She would be. She lost a lot of people in it. I'll explain over lunch." Harry looked over to see Seamus and Hermione laughing at each other. "Would you like to get anything?"

Mrs. Granger picked up the broom set and the duster along with the hot water rune and took it to the front. Harry led them all back to the Cauldron where Seamus had to use the floo to get home so he took them back to his room. "This is where you live?"

"Now, yes."

"Lucky." Hermione's face showed how envious she felt. "You're right next to the bookstore and all those second hand-shops."

"Let me get lunch then we can talk." Harry decided to ignore Hermione's comment because she was clearly not thinking of everything he'd lost to be this 'lucky' though where he was now was way better than where he'd been before. Not to mention he saw the look on Mrs. Granger's face and knew that Hermione was in for a serious talking to later on. After all, Harry had called Melinda by name so she was clearly not his mother and it didn't take someone with the mental capacity to become a doctor to figure out his parents were not in the picture — either because they were dead or because they weren't fit. Harry didn't expect a child of 11 to think of such things and tried not to take it personally that Hermione would be so thoughtless. Harry had to continuously remind himself that Hermione was no longer the adult he'd known and he couldn't hold her to those standards.

He came back in with a nice spread and raised the height of the table so they could use it like a dining room instead of a sitting room.

"Will you explain the Blood Wars now?" Mrs. Granger asked as she cut up her Devilled kidneys. Her daughter had written to her about Harry Potter but Mrs. Granger was sure most of what had been in her daughter's letters had been nonsense exaggerated by the young girl's first crush.

"As much as I am able to, yes. You have to remember that very few people know enough to be called experts on the Blood Wars because it was more like guerrilla warfare, secretive and more of hit 'em hard then get out of the way than it was pitched battles."

The Grangers' attention was completely captured and Harry realized that them not having all the information before they signed Hermione up at Hogwarts was nearly criminal.

"As far as I understand it a man calling himself Voldemort - and Hermione please remember that while we might find it a bit silly, do not speak 'Voldemort' in front of other wizards because they will scream and some will faint - showed up in the late sixties – early '68 in fact – and started demanding changes be made in the government. Changes that no one in their right mind would ever allow. Things like taking Muggle-born children from their parents and either allowing them to believe the child died or better yet not allowing them to remember they had a child in the first place."

"That's terrible!" Hermione cried.

"It's even more terrible when you remember that with magic you can see if not understand the bonds that are between people. Most people say there is a strong bond between parents and children but Muggles have no way to see those bonds. Wizards do."

"Witches can't?" Hermione asked her voice a little waspish.

"Yes, Hermione they can as long as you're speaking of witches in the sense of female wizards. Witchcraft is actually a completely different type of magic than Wizardry so when I say 'wizard' or 'witch' I mean in their traditional sense of people who practice Witchcraft or those who practice Wizardry. Anymore questions so far?" He hadn't let his annoyance show because it had been a good question even if she'd been rude when asking it.

"I'm sorry. That was rude of me wasn't it?"

"Hermione, you have to remember that in the magical world the only difference your gender makes is who carries the children. There has never been the males are better than females thing because physical strength has never mattered one wit in the magical world. It all comes down to magical strength and that has nothing to do with gender. So there really is no reason to be a hard line feminist."

"I'll remember that. I'm sorry again."

"So Voldemort's demands kept getting more and more outlandish up to the point where he demanded we start cutting all ties with the Muggle World-"

"What ties are there?"

"All our food is grown by Muggles because it's cheaper to pay them to do it than it is to buy up fields we sold off and start our own farms. Most of our ore comes from Muggles as well. Actually, we could get ore from the Goblins but they charge such high fees for it we'd end up completely bankrupt before the end of the decade if we bought from them. We don't use paper money, everything in the Magical World is strictly what you see is what you get, at least when it comes to money. Nothing else is quite that cut and dry. You have to remember, of course, that Wizards live to be upwards of 150 years old on average and our headmaster is 147 and there is a woman who gave him his O.W.L levels who still does the O.W.L. levels even to this day."

"I imagine change comes slowly to them then. The older a person is the less they see the need to change things."

"Exactly. So this upstart is going around demanding changes and claiming to be from Slytherin's line. Slytherin is one of the founders of Hogwarts but he was also a king in his own right as was each of the founders. Of course that doesn't mean much now other than as a status symbol but it got a lot of the younger crowd to listen to him. The people who ran the show just rolled their eyes and complained about the 'youth today' as elderly people the world over are wont to do. Then Voldemort created the Knights of Walpurgis and killed the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. That sent everyone up in arms but no one actually believed that Voldemort was any threat to them. Then the Triumvir were killed – the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, the Head of the Department of Mysteries and the Minister of Magic – and people were shocked breathless. I think that would be like killing the Prime Minster and the heads of the Ministry of Defence and Ministry of Justice. People were - well it wasn't pretty. There was a scramble to elect a new Minster and the person selected had no real business being Minster. She was a good Administrator and she ran her Department like a well oiled machine but the Head of International Cooperation shouldn't have been made Minster of Magic during a time of War. Barty Crouch was promoted from the Head of the Aurors to the Head DMLE and no one quite knows who heads the DoM anymore other than the other two people in the Triumvir. Bagshot was next to useless and ran around like a chicken with her head cut off while the DoM went underground and rarely raised their heads above the water. Crouch actually did a fairly decent job and was the only reason the Ministry didn't crumble like a house of cards. Meanwhile Voldemort's followers were using giants to destroy small towns and werewolves to sow chaos. They were killing people left and right like it was a game to them and they couldn't be arrested or captured because they wore masks to hide their identities and even if you managed to capture one of them there was no guarantee that they were actually on Voldemort's side because he had a nasty habit of taking people from their beds and charming them into doing what he wanted them to do. So you never knew who was doing what and who you could really trust. Because your mother or father could leave for work and come home and slaughter your entire family."

"That's… there aren't words for how horrifying that must have been," Mrs. Granger said, her hand covering her mouth and her free arm clutching at her daughter.

"No there aren't. Voldemort was getting his way and as much as Crouch was doing it wasn't enough. He started ordering people to kill all Death Eaters, what they had come to be known as, on sight using whatever means available to them. His most famous quote is 'Kill them all and let their Maker sort the bastards out.' It was horrible because people knew that not everyone who was a Death Eater was actually one of them willingly but there wasn't really anything they could do. Do you allow a person to continue to kill your friends and family just because they're not in control of their actions? The Aurors lost more members trying to keep all the Death Eaters alive to sort them out in the end than they would have if they just killed them to start with. By August '79 over 50,000 people had been killed, a lot of them Muggles, and the fight seemed like it was over. The Ministry was scrambling but it was clear to everyone that within a year Voldemort would win."

"Then something happened and Voldemort's attention shifted from taking over the Ministry to something else entirely and he got really quite for a while. There was almost five months of silence from the Death Eaters before they became active again and Voldemort redoubled his efforts. But that five months had given the Ministry the time they needed to shore themselves up and get everything situated. It was still acknowledged that there wasn't really a fighting chance but they were going to fight anyways. To most people it was better to die fighting for a lost cause than live under Voldemort's rule. Think of the worst dictator you've ever heard of then remember that with a simple spell Voldemort could torture a person into insanity within minutes. Voldemort was fighting to regain the advantage he'd lost when he went silent. Then he turned all of his attention to two families. He told his followers that the ones who brought these two families to him would be the most favored of his circle."

"Who were the families?" Hermione asked from her place on her father's lap, where she'd shifted sometime during the telling.

"Frank, Alice and Neville Longbottom and James, Lily and Harry Potter."

"Neville and your families?" Hermione gasped.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I haven't been able to figure it out," Harry said. "There has to be a reason. Voldemort had to have learned something but no one seems to know what it is or if a person knows they are not saying anything. All I know is that Neville's parents went into hiding with him and my parents went into hiding with me and when I was 14 months old Voldemort came to our house and killed my parents then tried to kill me."

"Then something went wrong and it killed him instead," Hermione nodded as she had clearly read that part from a book

"That's the official story," Harry agreed.

"You don't believe it?"

Harry was silent for a while as he tried to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. "I know that there is dark magic in the world, magic that no sane and most insane people wouldn't dream of using. I know that Voldemort was intelligent, cunning and planned for everything before making a move. I know that he was brilliant and insane and was capable of such evil that most people, even Dark Wizards would shudder in revulsion for even thinking of it. Some magics are so forbidden there aren't even laws written about them. Soul magic for example."

"Ghosts," Hermione gasped picking up on what Harry was thinking. "There are ghosts in the world."

"Yes." Harry clenched his jaw. "I'm thinking a little bit along the lines of Tolkien."

"Come on, Harry, that's a fantasy book!" Hermione scoffed.

"Hermione, you're a witch and Tolkien was a Squib and knew a great deal about the magical world. His mother inherited a rather dark library from her family and was a book lover so couldn't bear to throw anything away."

"You're thinking that whatever the ring was…" Hermione didn't say it.

"I'm thinking that Voldemort wasn't human enough to die. Whatever the reason and that when he comes back… well things haven't changed at all."

"Am I in danger? Harry, am I in danger?" her voice was higher pitched than it had been before and she was clutching at her father's hand while he wrapped his arms around her.

"Hermione, from the minute you were born you were in danger. Think about the dates. Your birthday is September '79 yes?" She nodded. "If Voldemort hadn't gone silent from August to January then you and likely your family would already be dead. The way Hogwarts knows to put you on the list is the same way Voldemort knew which Muggles to kill. You and your parents would have been killed within a month of your birth if Voldemort had still been as active as he had been earlier in the war. It doesn't help that you insist on bringing all the attention of the lower classes on you at every chance you get. You rub the noses of the purebloods in the fact that you're more intelligent and powerful than they are and that isn't making you very many friends."

"Why did you agree to tutor me, Harry?"

"Because you need it."

"Is Hermione in danger at school?" Mr. Granger asked, his eyes hard.

"No." Harry shook his head. "Dumbledore is the Headmaster and for all his many faults, and he will be the first to admit that he has many, many shortcomings, he is the only person in the world that Voldemort truly feared and because of that his Death Eaters also fear him. They may scorn him as a foolish, Muggle loving blood-traitor but as long as Dumbledore is at the school then no one would dare move against Hogwarts or any of the children there. Remember also that McGonagall is a Mistress in her field and she fought in one war before settling down at Hogwarts. She is a match for any of the Inner Circle Death Eaters and a match for any three of the rest. Flitwick is also a Master Dueler and has not only a Charms Mastery but also a Defense Mastery. Sprout, for all her kind nature, is formidable in her own right and as much as I despise Snape for being a bigot he also has a Mastery in Defense and Potions. Hogwarts is, bar none, the safest place in the world based solely on the professors. Then when you add in the Wards, which were also just upgraded in '89 with a brand new ward scheme, designed to allow no real harm to befall any of the students, the school is even safer than it would appear to be. I decided to start teaching you Defense, Hermione, because our teacher is inept and because both you and Neville need all the help you can get. If Voldemort ever does come back, Neville and I will be at the top of his list, closely followed by the rest who oppose him then all the Muggle-borns. You need to know how to defend yourself because in the unlikely event that happens you will have to know how to protect your family long enough for help to show up. You're clearly intelligent and you've had no trouble so far in classes so I'm going to guess your magical strength is at least average."

"Should we pull Hermione out of Hogwarts?"

"If it was my child I would. But I'm also a Wizard and capable of teaching my child how to defend herself. You are, I'm sorry, Muggles and the most you'll ever be able to teach her is physical self-defense and how to shoot a gun. Neither of which does much good against a person who can block projectiles and doesn't have to get within reaching distance to harm you."

"But surely a bullet can get to most people before they have a chance to use a shield."

"No, no, Hermione, it goes back to the Romans." Harry shook his head. "Wizards used to use bows and arrows. They were used to great effect until some of their enemies were clever enough to invent a spell – a Rune – that allowed them to wear a necklace or a bracelet that could block the arrows. The faster the projectile moves the stronger the charm. Bullets can't get within twenty feet of a Wizard."

"Can Muggles use them?" Hermione asked eagerly.

Harry shrugged. "Sure but because they don't have the magic to upkeep them they'll have to get them charged every four or five months. And if they ever do get shot at I imagine it will only hold off three or four bullets before the charm dies. So if someone is shooting at you get the hell out of the way. Because you can't actually use magic the bullet will seem to miss you by only a few inches so you won't have to worry about appearing to be Superman or anything. Do either of you have something you wear every day? A wallet or a bracelet or necklace? Something you won't have to remind yourself to put on."

"Will this ring do?" Mrs. Granger asked, holding up her right hand where a large ring covered in gems sat on her middle finger.

"Absolutely. I can do the Runes right now if you want. And Hermione?"

She bit her lip and looked at the ceiling. "I have a necklace that I usually wear," she said, holding out the chain with a largish gem on it.

"That will work." Harry went over and got out his etching supplies. "Now do you want me to add to the jewelry or take away?"

"Can you add to it?"

"Sure, I have silver, gold and copper. I can run out quickly and get any other metals you want."

"How about the wallet?"

"Sewing or etching." Harry shrugged. "It isn't really hard, it's just tedious work."

Hermione pushed herself toward him and sat down. "I've been wondering what this is all about. Why you're taking extra classes."

"It's because I'm a natural Rune Master. I can read Runes of any kind like they're English. I know they're Runes and I can write them that way but…well it's hard to explain really." Harry shrugged. "Rune magic is expensive because not a lot of people can do it and those that can take a really long time to do even stuff they've done over and over and over again."

"Why?"

"Because if the Rune is off it can blow up and the magical backlash from the explosion will kill anyone around."

"Is there a chance of that happening here?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide as she started to back up.

"There's always a chance, Hermione, that when you use magic it will go wrong." Harry smiled at her. "But I'm no more worried about these simple charms than I would be about you using the Levitation spell. You remember how much trouble the spell caused in class when we were all learning it?"

Hermione smiled wryly and nodded then sat back to watch. Harry got everything out to make the first Rune when Hermione said she wanted it to be etched. Etching was easier than wielding, less messy and there was no bleed over but if done right the wielding looked much better. Unless you darkened the etched surface then it looked pretty good. But that was just Harry's own personal opinion and had no bearing on what he did for other people.

It took about an hour to complete all three charms and Hermione had frowned and told him she could do it as well, it didn't look that hard. Harry had smiled and had given her the tools to use and told her to have at it with a scrap of leather that he planned to use to create something for Sirius, though he hadn't decided on what. He went over to a glass bowl he hadn't done anything with and started etching Runes on it. He was finished before Hermione even though he had three times as many Runes to write out. When she was done Harry told her how to activate them, while it was still glowing but before the Rune became active he threw it into the bowl and watched it explode.

"Oh my word!" Mrs. Granger gasped, clutching at her throat in fear.

"Do you still think it's easy, Hermione?"

"Why did you let me do that if you knew it was going to explode?" she hissed at him, angry that she'd been embarrassed but especially in front of her parents.

"If I told you what would have happened what would you have done?"

"I probably would have tried it at home," she admitted, folding her arms across her chest.

Harry nodded because he already knew that's exactly what she would have done. Hermione was Hermione no matter who her friends were. Curious as a cat and twice as likely to be burned. After all, cats also have some self-preservation instincts. "And what would have happened then?"

"It still would have blown up," Hermione admitted grudgingly. "And then I would have hurt my parents and myself."

"No, Hermione, that explosion was enough to blow your house to pieces. You would have killed your parents and yourself. There is a reason why everyone who takes Ancient Runes doesn't use Runes. They are dangerous and unpredictable. You have to make sure you have it written perfectly or you'll chance killing people. It isn't a joke, it isn't something to play with. I hope that you are intelligent enough to understand that if you want to learn Runes you can start studying them now but wait for Astray to tell you that you are capable before you go to activate them. I make it look easy but that is simply because it is in my blood. It is the same way you make school work look easy to someone who is less intelligent than you."

Hermione swallowed. She wasn't used to taking orders from someone her age, she was always the most mature, always the one who never did anything that would call negative attention to her from teachers and she was always the one who pointed out the rules to others so they could keep themselves on the right side of the line. But it seemed more and more that since she got to Hogwarts she was coming in second best: the teachers all were more likely to call on Harry than on her, the students liked Harry more than her and the simple fact of the matter was that Harry got better grades than her. She didn't like these turns of events and she wanted it to go back to when she was best loved and best liked by the teachers. But being best liked probably included not getting herself blown up because she was being foolish. "I promise."

The Grangers stayed for another hour, asking questions and taking in the magical world. Harry wondered why no one had explained to the Grangers even the most basics of life in the Wizarding world. Was that too much to ask for? For a couple who were sending their child into a magical world to get at least a few questions answered? Harry wasn't sure what he was feeling about that but he knew it bugged him.

As they were saying their goodbyes Harry gave the Grangers their charms which he had been polishing while they'd been speaking. "I'll recharge them during the Breaks but if you ever get in a situation where bullets or other objects are flying at you then send me the ring and wallet and I'll recharge them and get them back to you as soon as possible. Hermione, also remember that unless you are at Hogwarts or the Alley you cannot recharge your necklace. It registers as magic at the Ministry and you'll risk getting expelled."

Harry sent another care package to Sirius that night, full of all kinds of goodies including some playboys that he'd gotten from a consignment shop in Muggle London a few days ago. He didn't think Sirius could get any real use out of them, not surrounded by Dementors as he was but he thought it would at least get a smile out of the man and anything that helped was better than nothing at all in that evil place.

Also tomorrow he was going to get started on his Grimmauld Place plans.


End file.
